Unforgiven Remedy
by Gohanna
Summary: If you could go back and change one thing in your life, one instance to be able to turn it around so that you never walked down this path, never hurt the ones you loved over and over again, never betrayed the one person who always had your back, protected you and loved you with everything they had ... would you do it? WARNING: language, violence, physical violence, suicidal thought
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Warnings:** Harsh language, violence, some physical violence but nothing too graphic, thoughts of self-incrimination.

 **Author's Note:** Not quite sure where this one came from. Not even sure if I like it or not but … it is set just after The Darkness is released. Let me know if I should continue or not.

 **UNFORGIVEN REMEDY**

Sam Winchester was drunk.

He was sitting at the kitchen table of the Men of Letters bunker, contemplating getting himself something to eat, because it felt like he hadn't eaten in what felt like forever, but brought the half-filled glass of whiskey to his mouth instead.

It was the first time, in a very long time, that Sam had allowed himself to relax since learning that his brother had gotten the damn Mark of Cain in order to defeat Abaddon – the last Knight of Hell – who had been determined to take over Hell and wreak havoc upon the Earth.

But now, finally, after months of heartache, frustration and tears, Sam had been able to save his brother. The Mark of Cain was removed and now Dean was free; no chance of him becoming a demon again, no chance of him giving into his dark side and turning evil; after all of these years, Sam had finally done the impossible and had saved his beloved big brother.

That, in itself, was more than enough reason for Sam to celebrate with a couple of drinks. But, as usual, freeing Dean from the Mark had come at a terrible cost. Not only had Sam gotten Charlie – a young, sassy, vibrant young woman whom both Winchesters had come to love like the sister they never had – killed, but Sam had released a terrible force upon the Earth … the Darkness.

Once again, Sam had set something evil loose upon the world. As if he hadn't learned his lesson the first time when he had released Lucifer and almost brought about the promised apocalypse. Now, he had released something far more devastating upon the Earth; something far more dangerous; something that was so destructive that God himself had deemed it necessary to lock it away and basically throw away the key.

But Sam had managed the impossible. He had not only found the key, but Sam had managed to unlock it, freeing the Darkness into the world when he had removed the Mark of Cain from his brother's arm. The Mark had been the key; and removing it had unlocked the door to a cell that should never, ever been opened. But once again, Sam Winchester had done the impossible and had doomed the world to annihilation once again.

Sam had gone against every rational thought, every instinct – even Dean telling him once Charlie had died to forget this crusade Sam was on to free him from the mark, to leave it alone – because Sam had wanted to save his brother just one damn time.

He had failed Dean when he couldn't Dean out of his deal to go to Hell for Sam. He had failed Dean when he had trusted a _demon_ over his own flesh and blood brother, becoming addicted to _demon blood_ , his vengeance to kill the demon Lilith, who had dragged Dean's soul to Hell, the hell hounds she commanded ripping into Dean's body right in front of his eyes while Sam could do nothing … _nothing_ to stop it, or to save Dean like he had promised, _vowed_ to do; not realizing that killing Lilith was the final seal to unlocking the cage which had set Lucifer free.

He had failed Dean when he had returned from Hell soulless and let Dean get turned into a vampire just so he could get information on the Alpha vampire; almost killing his surrogate father – Bobby Singer – in the process of trying to stop Dean from returning his soul into his body.

Thank God Dean had succeeded and Sam had failed. He never, ever wanted to walk around without a soul ever again. He was too dangerous, too unpredictable.

And then, of course, the ultimate failure and betrayal of when he hadn't looked for Dean when he had been sent to Purgatory after killing Dick Roman – leader of the Leviathans – forcing Dean to put his trust in a _vampire_ , rather than be hurt and betrayed by his little brother once more.

Of course, there was a more valid reason as to _why_ Sam hadn't looked for Dean, other than he had 'hit a dog and met a girl' but Sam would never, ever reveal the real reason why he had quit hunting; why he had stopped looking for his beloved brother.

The memory of that time was enough to cause Sam to shudder with shame and revision. Nope. There was no way in hell Dean was _ever_ going to learn the truth … not from Sam anyway.

Then Sam had failed to shut the gates of Hell – because his big brother had begged him to stop – but if Sam hadn't of been such a coward, if he had only _finished_ what he had started, then Abaddon wouldn't have arrived on the scene and Dean wouldn't have had to get the Mark of Cain in order to defeat her … so, in a round about way, Sam had failed his brother on that score to.

Although, since Abaddon jumped into their time-line from the past, and if Sam _had_ succeeded in closing the gates of Hell, did that mean that Abaddon would still have come into their time or would she have been sucked back into Hell just as the gates were closing?

Sam didn't know for certain, and it hurt his head to consider all of the ramifications that time travel could cause or incur. But, it didn't matter; Sam still accepted the responsibility, the blame, the guilt, the failure for Abaddon and for his brother having to obtain the Mark of Cain.

And then, there was the fact that while possessed by the angel Gadreel, he had used Sam's body to kill another good friend of theirs; a young prophet who had looked to the Winchesters for his safety and survival and Sam had just … killed him.

Well, Gadreel had killed him if you wanted to get really technical, but Sam still counted that as one of his failures toward his brother. Because if he'd been stronger, maybe he could have stopped the angel from killing their friend – Kevin Tran – he could have evicted the angel from his body. But Sam hadn't been strong enough. He was never strong enough to be able to protect the ones he cared about.

And that's part of the reason why Sam had been so determined to save his brother from the Mark. For once in his miserable existence, Sam was going to do the one thing he'd always vowed to do, but he'd never been able to succeed in doing; he was going to save his brother, no matter what it took, or what it cost him. He was going to save Dean.

And he had. Finally, after everything, Sam had succeeded in saving his brother.

But the cost had been too high.

Charlie … _It should been you up there_ , Dean's icy cold voice resounded within his mind. And in that moment, Sam wished that it had been him up there. Charlie didn't deserve to die just because she had reluctantly agreed to Sam's plan to help free Dean from the Mark.

Charlie hadn't deserved to die for the book – the Book of the Damned – that had eventually been the book that had an ancient spell to remove the Mark from Dean's arm; the book that a powerful family – the Styne's – had wanted in their possession and who had ultimately tracked Charlie down and killed her in order for them to obtain it; the book that Sam had tricked Dean into thinking had been destroyed, but had quickly swapped it out for another book while Dean's back was turned.

Charlie had died because of him; Sam had no illusions or doubts about that. Kevin had died because of him; their Mum had died because of him. And if Sam really looked at it, scrutinized over it, he was sure that his Dad and Bobby had died because of him as well.

And then there was Ellen and Jo, who had died in a suicide mission of finding the Devil and shooting him point blank in the face in order to avert the impending apocalypse … the same Devil that Sam had freed from the cage in the damned first place!

Sam swept his arm across the kitchen table in a fit of rage, the glass and bottle he had been drinking out of being swept onto the floor, shattered glass raining upon the floor, Sam's breaths coming out in heaves of pent up furry and frustration.

Why the hell couldn't he do _anything_ right?

 _It should be you up there …_

 _You're a monster Sam, a freak, a blood sucking vampire …_

 _You walk out that door and don't you ever come back …_

 _When this is over … you lose my number … understand? …_

 _Why did you do it Dean? Why did you sell your soul for me? … Because I couldn't live with you dead …_

 _I just … I don't know if I can trust you anymore …_

 _I was wrong … we're not stronger together, we're weaker …_

 _It should be_ _ **you**_ _up there …_

 _C'mon son, you're not gonna kill me, are ya? … Sorry Bobby, it's nothing personal …_

 _Benny's been a better brother to me than you ever have … he's never let me down …_

 _Dad said that I had to save you and if I couldn't … I might have to kill you Sammy …_

Phrases and voices from the past invaded Sam's mind, like a re-run of his epic failures, playing and resounding within his mind.

Sam had thought that after he went to Hell, locked in the cage with two very pissed of arch-angels – Michael and Lucifer – that he had atoned for his sins … not completely, but just a little. He had been the one who had set Lucifer free, so it seemed fitting that he should be the one to put him back.

And he had. Sam had jumped into the pit, Lucifer on board, pulling Michael and his half-brother Adam down with him. He had suffered horribly, the events in the cage causing his fragile mind to shatter into a million pieces, his hallucinations so powerful that he couldn't tell what was real and what was not. He had almost been driven to the brink of insanity; to the brink of death and if not for Castiel – an angel of the Lord, Dean's guardian angel, the one who had rescued his brother from Hell all of those years ago – he would have succumbed and he would have died.

Maybe Castiel shouldn't have saved him … the boy with the Demon Blood …

Sam knew that no matter what he did or how hard he tried, he could never atone for his sins. Not completely.

Dean had forgiven Sam for his past failures, mistakes, in that church, Sam about to complete the last trial which would have closed the gates of Hell forever. Dean had forgiven him …

 _There is nothing, not past or present that I would ever put in front of you. You have to believe that … I need you to see that! …_

 _It should be you up there …_

 _Benny's been a better brother to me than you've ever been …_

… _I might have to kill you Sammy …_

Sam shook his head, knowing that after everything he had done, he would _never_ be able to atone for his sins. He would _never_ be able to wipe the slate clean and start over … as much as Dean had forgiven him and told him that they could start over, Sam knew that he couldn't. He'd done too much bad to be given a chance of redemption.

He told himself that he did what he had for the greater good, that his intentions had been pure, noble, and good; but it was all lies. His so-called "good intentions" always led to things being so much worse. People _died_ because of his "good intentions". And Dean … every time Sam failed and fucked up royally, he could see pieces of Dean being shredded away. His belief and trust in _Sam_ , in their brotherhood being stripped piece by piece every time Sam screwed up, bringing the world closer to annihilation and the ultimate end.

 _The only person who has made more mistakes than me, is you …_

Sam chuckled bitterly at that thought; words that Castiel had spoken had never been more true. Yes, Sam had made _many_ mistakes. And he had no doubt that he would make many more. But the thing that bothered him the most was that he seemed to never _learn_ from his mistakes.

What was that saying … once is a mistake, the second time is a choice?

Sam honestly hadn't _chosen_ to release a new evil onto the Earth. He hadn't. He had been more than prepared to sacrifice his own life, his own sorry excuse of an existence in exchange for removing the Mark from his brother, but, instead, he had released something evil. Another type of evil, even worse than Lucifer this time, and Sam honestly didn't know if he had to strength to fix what he had broken this time.

 _It should be_ _ **you**_ _up there …_

… _I might have to kill you Sammy …_

 _You're a freak … a monster … a blood sucking vampire …_

Sam's bitter chuckle turned into a sob; so many regrets, so much guilt, shame, remorse. When did it end? When would Sam learn his fucking lesson?

 _ **It should be you up there!**_

 **SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW**

Dean Winchester sat upon his bed, the memory foam mattress that he loved so much, sculpted and curved around his body comfortably, staring vacantly at the wall, half a bottle of beer clasped in his hand, contemplating everything that had occurred within the last twenty-four hours.

He'd tried to kill his little brother.

As much as he had denied Cain's claim that Dean's story would end how Cain's had begun, by killing his brother; as hard as Dean had vehemently declared that he would _never_ hurt his brother, standing strong in that one true and only belief that he could never harm his Sammy.

No matter what Sam had done, how much he had disappointed, betrayed and hurt Dean, Dean had known that he could never, would never resort to killing his brother – even though Dad had told him to 'save Sammy or kill him', even though while Sam had been possessed by the demon Meg, begging Dean to kill him because he felt something evil growing inside of him – Dean hadn't been able to do it … hadn't even _considered_ the possibility of ending his brother's life, because as far as Dean was concerned – especially when it came to Sammy – there was always another way.

And now … Dean had tried to kill his little brother.

Dean wasn't sure if it was because of the Mark twisting his brotherly instincts, needs and desires, or if it was because of Charlie's death – which was Sam's fault because he had gotten her involved with his stupid crusade of trying to save him by removing the Mark of Cain from his arm; or maybe it was a combination of both … but whatever the reason, Dean had suddenly ignored years of instincts – brotherly and Hunter alike – and had decided that taking both Winchester siblings out of the playing field – Dean would kill Sam and Death would take Dean far away so that he could never hurt anyone – by killing the one person whom he loved and adored above anyone else.

He had raised that kid; he had sold his soul to bring Sam back from the dead because he couldn't live without him. Hell, he had done impossible things, made horrendous deals all so he could get his brother back, so he wouldn't be alone. Because if Sam was dead, then Dean had failed his one true and only mission, to protect Sammy, and Dean couldn't live with that failure, wouldn't live with having failed the only good thing in his wretched, fucked-up life.

But now …

 _Close your eyes … Sammy, close your eyes …_

Dean had almost killed his baby brother, Cain's prediction almost coming to fruition and Sam … Sam had just knelt there, nothing but love, pride and understanding shinning within the depths of those puppy dog hazel eyes, calmly awaiting his death as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

If it hadn't of been for the pictures that Sam had brought with him and his big brother instincts screaming into life at the last second as Dean was about to strike his brother down, but had killed Death instead, Dean knew that he would have gone through with striking his brother down; no guilt, no remorse, just like a fucking robot who was doing what they had been programmed to do.

Dean didn't know who was more surprised when he had taken a swing at Death and killed him, him or Sam. But before Dean could properly sort through the reasons _why_ he had spared Sam's life, a sharp, intense pain hit his arm, taking him down to his knees by the intensity of the agonizing pain … and then, just as soon as it had begun, it was over. The Mark of Cain was removed and Dean's deadened feelings and emotions flared back into life, relieved that he hadn't killed Sam, horrified that he had even considered that to be a possibility.

But now the Darkness was free. And apparently Dean had some kind of "connection" with the Darkness … just like he'd had a "profound bond" with the angel Castiel who had freed him from Hell.

And look how well his so-called "profound bond" had turned out. Dean had believed a bunch of douche bag angels instead of helping his sick and traumatized sibling – because who wouldn't be a little traumatized to see their big brother being ripped apart in front of them by an invisible force? – letting them fuck with his mind and emotions so much that Dean had thrown away the only possession that had meant any significance to him; the amulet Sam had given him.

To this day, Dean still felt tremendous guilt for that action and how gullible and stupid he was to let a bunch of "dicks with wings" come between the bond and brotherhood that he shared with Sam.

Dean was scared.

He was scared about the "connection" he had with this Darkness because as it had been proven time and again – the bunch of dick angels with wings and the Mark of Cain – it was all too easy for Dean to be manipulated by them, to easily dismiss his brother, failing to see that Sam was crying out in desperate need as Dean lost faith, trust and belief in Sam and their brotherhood.

Dean had almost killed his baby brother …

 _Sammy, close your eyes …_

 _Dean, feeling so exhausted and despondent, his belief and hope scattered round him as he dropped the amulet in the trash and walked out of the motel room without uttering a word or looking at Sam in any way._

And then there was …

… _I choose the king of Hell over you … maybe I was just tired of having to yank your lame ass out of fire, since forever … maybe it was the fact that my mother would still be alive if it wasn't for you … your very existence sucked the life out of my life …_

God, demon him was such an ass! And he'd tried to kill Sammy then too.

You would think that after all of this time that Sam would just stay away from him. Almost killing Sam was getting to become a regular occurrence these days. And what if the Darkness, because of the "connection" that they shared managed to do the impossible; twisted and manipulated Dean's mind so much that he actually killed his brother for real this time?

Dean shuddered at the thought, the half-bottle of beer in his hand gone with two quick gulps; the familiar sting of tears burning in his eyes.

Why Sam was still here, why he had even _bothered_ to save him was a complete mystery to Dean. Dean had lost faith in that kid so many times, almost losing the will to go on, but Sam had clung in there, had fought his way back into Dean's heart, had never given up on him the way that Dean had given up on him and _healed_ him from the Mark of Cain, the very first curse, even after Dean had almost killed him.

Dean closed his eyes, the guilt of his actions, of his words, washing over him, almost rendering him incapable of being able to breathe.

How could he have tried to kill his kid brother? How could he have said such cruel things to the one that he had dedicated … lived his whole life for?

Granted, he'd been under the influence of the Mark while saying such heartless and cruel things, blaming Sam for their mother's death – which he had _never_ blamed or thought Sam responsible for their mother's death in any way, shape or form previously – trying to kill him with a bloody hammer when he had died and the Mark had brought him back as a demon.

But that was no excuse. He should _never_ have said those things to his brother; he should never have even _thought_ those things. This was Sammy, the kid he he'd raised … yeah, sure Sam had made some mistakes – Dean had made plenty of mistakes himself – it was just unfortunate luck that his brother's mistakes were epic in scale, bringing about the possible end of the world.

Dean had forgiven Sam for most of that crap, he had. It was just hard sometimes when the kid kept making the same mistakes over and over.

Dean couldn't even get mad at Sam for helping to release the Darkness when Sam had removed the Mark, because Dean knew that if their positions had been reversed, Dean would have done the exact same thing Sam had done. So to get mad at Sam for saving him … would be kind of hypocritical of him, and Dean Winchester was no hypocrite!

Dean knew he had hurt Sam's feelings tonight when he had wanted to have an early night and not go out like his brother had wanted, but Dean honestly didn't know if he could sit through an entire evening with Sam, trying to act normal and that everything was okay when all Dean really felt was deep guilt and remorse for the abhorrent way that he had treated his brother.

He'd almost killed his brother … his Sammy … his baby brother … and that knowledge made Dean feel sick to his stomach. Sam may have forgiven him for those things and brushed it off as nothing, but Dean would _never_ be able to forgive himself for that.

His emotions were too close to the surface, too close to breaking though the carefully crafted barrier that he had erected to fool everyone into thinking he was all right, when in reality he was falling to pieces.

If Dean had taken Sam up on his offer, he would have cracked, his emotions would have come spilling out, he might even have blubbered like some girl in a really cheesy click flick movie … it wouldn't have been pretty … so Dean had decided to remain here, by himself, where he could deal with these emotions in typical Dean Winchester fashion by pushing them down, practicing his carefully crafted mask, making sure he had some kind of handle on his emotions before he faced Sam tomorrow.

Because, unfortunately for him, Sammy was the only one who could penetrate Dean's mask, his shield. Sam would know just by one look, one wrong misplaced smile or stuttered word that Dean was _not_ all right; and then Sam would demand an answer, which would initiate a damn chick flick moment.

Dean's thoughts were interrupted by a loud shattering sound of glass being smashed or dropped, coming from the kitchen.

 _Sammy_! Dean thought as he instinctively swung his legs over his bed, intent on getting to his brother as fast as he could. It may be that some intruder was in the bunker or it could be that his gawky, clumsy, oversized brother had dropped something.

Dean hesitated with his hand on the door knob, intending to fling the door open and rush to see what had befallen his brother, bitting his bottom lip nervously, glancing down the hallway worriedly, not wanting to confront his brother yet when his emotions were this close to the surface and he still felt so _raw_.

It was likely Sam had dropped something. It was difficult for an intruder to enter the Men of Letters bunker; difficult, but not impossible. Still, Dean didn't go running toward the kitchen, relaxing slightly when he heard his brother's muttered curses.

Sammy was okay. He was just drunk.

Dean couldn't help but chuckle to himself, knowing that at any moment now he would hear his brother stumbling down the hallway toward his room where he would, no doubt, crash for the night to sleep off his drunkenness.

Tomorrow, Dean decided, was soon enough to fix things with his brother.

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

Sam listed dangerously to one side. He grabbed hold of the table to brace himself but his hand slipped and Sam found himself falling. Straight down he went, in an ungraceful heap, right into the path of the shattered glass.

Sam felt small pricks of pain as some of the glass pierced his skin, but the alcohol numbed his pain, his senses, and his reactions. And he could only blink stupidly, wondering how the hell he had ended up on the floor in the first place.

Sam hadn't started drinking with the intention of getting drunk – blind drunk now if he was being completely honest with himself – he had wanted to have a celebratory drink with Dean because after all of this time, he had finally gotten his big brother back.

But Dean … as much as he had assured Sam that they were equally to blame for freeing the Darkness, and as much as Dean had said that he had forgiven Sam … Sam had seen the same look within those green eyes that he had grown up with, idolizing and worshiping as only a little brother could, that Dean had given to Sam each time that Sam had failed him.

That look of ultimate betrayal, pain, weariness that he had to fix yet another one of his brother's countless screw-ups, shame, humiliation, disappointment … and Sam thought he could detect a spec, a smidgen of hate in there, mixed in with large amounts of disdain.

When Sam had suggested that they grab a bite to eat and have a few beers, Dean had said that he was tired and had quickly retired to his room, but Sam had seen the flash of horror and disgust upon Dean's expression at having to spend an entire evening with Sam, talking in polite small talk when all he really wanted to do was to get as far away from Sam as fast as he could.

Sam had let Dean go, knowing with a sinking heart that his brother hated and despised him once again; that he hadn't forgiven Sam, nor would he ever and that this time … maybe Sam had pushed the limit too far, maybe Sam had finally broken the faith and belief that Dean once had in him, their brotherhood, their bond.

What was the point in carrying on if Dean had lost belief in him once again? It had been hard enough when Dean had thrown the amulet Sam had given him away, signifying to Sam that Dean no longer considered Sam his brother, no longer believed in him … in _them_.

Sam didn't think he could go through that again.

Sam hadn't given up then because he had to put Lucifer back in the cage, he had to stop the impending apocalypse that he had inadvertently started … plus Lucifer had said that he would only bring Sam back if Sam decided to give up. So Sam had no choice but to carry on.

And Sam knew that he wouldn't give up this time either. He had released the Darkness; he had to put it back.

But …

What if he could go back somehow … change one thing in his life, one instance to be able to turn it around so that he'd never walked down this path of self-destruction, never hurt the ones he loved over and over again, never betrayed the only person in his miserable life who had ever had his back, protected him and loved him with everything he had?

Sam wished he could change it so that Dean never had to feel misery and pain from the little brother he had raised and looked after for his whole life. He wished Dean never had to lose trust and faith in not only him, but in _them_ … their brotherhood.

But the only being Sam had come across who could grand wishes was a jinn. And even then, it wasn't entirely a wish as such because you were put in a dream-state and would die in a few days as the jinn feed upon your life essence.

Angels _could_ take you back in time … but Sam wasn't too confident that any angel would want to deal with the Winchesters, especially with him in particular because he was the boy with the Demon Blood. And Castiel … his friend … he no longer had the mojo to perform such angelic tasks as time travel or granting wishes.

But Henry Winchester, their grandfather, a Man of Letters, had used a spell in order to travel into the future, to his blood-line, to Sam and Dean. Maybe if Sam could tweak it a little … he would be able to travel to the past, prevent his naive self from taking the path that would lead to his damnation.

Actually, now that Sam thought about it, he was sure that he'd seen a spell somewhere in one of the books that he had scoured while looking for something that could cure Dean from the Mark of Cain … that could be just what he needed to make his greatest wish a reality.

Quickly, Sam stumbled to his feet, unaware that he was bleeding profusely from a large gash in his arm, renewed hope in his heart as he staggered his way into the library, coming across the first book shelf he could see as he began to rifle through the books.

He could fix this. He could fix all of this.

Dean wouldn't look as if he had the weight of the world upon his shoulders, looking far older than his actual age because he had seen too much, experienced too much, been hurt and betrayed by the one person he had trusted implicitly to always have his back, to always be on his side.

Dean could go back to being that care free twenty-six year old that Sam remembered when he'd come to collect Sam from Stanford to search for their missing father all of those years ago.

Sam's greatest wish for his brother could become a reality. And this time around … he could be completely sure that he had saved Dean, even if that meant saving Dean from himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Warnings:** Harsh language, violence, some physical violence but nothing too graphic, thoughts of self-incrimination.

 **Author's Note:** Not quite sure where this one came from. Not even sure if I like it or not but … it is set just after The Darkness is released. I have no knowledge of spells or how to perform them, so I have just used my imagination.

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Kas3y** and **Wayward-or-Awkward** for your review and your kind words. Because of you guys I have decided to post the next chapter. Fingers crossed that you guys like this. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time out to read this, your support means a lot, thanks.

 **UNFORGIVEN REMEDY**

 **CHAPTER TWO**

Dean heard a thump a few moments later and could only deduce that his brother had fallen or banged into a wall like Sam was prone and known to do even when he wasn't drunk.

It was the continued silence that started to freak Dean out, making him become a little anxious. As long as he heard noises – smashing, thumping, slurred curses – he knew that his brother was still all right. But the continued silence that rained over the bunker caused Dean's over active imagination to go into over-drive.

And after ten minutes of hearing nothing but silence, Dean decided to go and check on his drunken little brother. Knowing Sammy, he had probably just passed out cold somewhere between here and the kitchen; which would mean that Dean would have to haul his heavy ass back to his room and get him settled for the night. It was an even more difficult task when Sam was completely dead-weight and four inches taller than him.

Dean let out a long, weary sigh as he rounded the corner to the kitchen, not looking forward to the difficult task that lay ahead. An emotional Sammy was bad enough; but a drunken Sam … hell, that could open up a whole can of worms that Dean didn't want to get into right now.

Still, he couldn't leave his kid brother comatose on the kitchen floor, freezing his ass off. What sort of big brother would he be if he allowed that?

 _But, you tried to kill that kid not more than twenty-four hours ago_ ; Dean's inner voice mocked him. _What sort of big brother were you then?_

Dean gritted his teeth together, deliberately ignoring that voice as he stepped into the kitchen. What Dean expected to see and what he saw were two completely different things.

He had expected to see Sam comatose at the table or on the floor, but what he saw made Dean's eyes widen in surprise, his heart clench with fear and his stomach twist out from under him in dread.

Glass lay scattered upon the ground – which Dean wasn't too surprised to see since he'd heard the sound of glass breaking while he'd been in his room – but what did surprise him and shock him out of his own self-incriminating thoughts was the blood that he could see amongst the shattered glass.

"Sam!" Dean called out, his heart pounding against his chest in fear at the sight of blood. If there was one thing Dean absolutely hated, it was the knowledge of his little brother hurt … especially if it involved blood. Blood on Sammy was _not_ a good look!

"Sammy!" Dean called out again, louder this time when his first call was met with nothing but silence.

Dean's eyes quickly scanned the kitchen, taking in the scene and looking for things that were out of place or a clue as to where Sam had gone or what had happened to him.

Dean cursed softly under his breath when he noticed a trail of blood exiting the kitchen and going toward the library. Damn fool kid was too drunk to know that he was bleeding!

Dean quickly followed the trail of blood, which did indeed lead him into the library, to find Sam standing at the table, hunched over a book, a look of fierce concentration upon his face, adding things into a bowl, muttering to himself as he swayed on his feet, blood still flowing freely from the young man's arm.

"Sammy," Dean moved forward, relief hitting him at finding his brother relatively safe, but frowned in puzzlement a moment later when he noticed various types of ingredients that his brother had scattered about the table. "What are you doing?"

Sam jumped, shocked at the sound of his brother's voice, so concentrated on the task before him that he had failed to hear Dean's approach. "Dean?" he said in surprise and Dean couldn't help but notice a look of guilt that flashed upon his brother's expression for a second before he tried to school his features into a more casual look.

"What are you … God; I'm sorry if I woke you. I just … I needed to _fix_ something before I went to bed." Sam tried to smile at his brother reassuringly, but Sam had never really mastered the skill of lying, his hazel eyes far too expressive to be able to pull it off … especially when he was drunk. "It's all good Dean; I've got this, okay? You don't need to worry about … this. I was just … researching."

Dean noticed the wide arm gestures Sam made while trying to explain himself, keeping his eyes trained upon his brother's eyes, watching as Sam's eyes darted everywhere except looking straight into Dean's eyes, which was a sure sign that Sam was doing something that Dean wouldn't approve of and with his exaggerated arm gestures, a sense of forbidding began to settle within the pit of Dean's stomach.

"Sam, what are you trying to fix man? If you're trying to do a spell to fix the cut on your arm, you don't have to finish it dude, cause I can fix that for you." Dean kept his tone even and light as he cautiously moved closer to his erratically swaying sibling and Dean wasn't sure if it was from the alcohol or because Sam had lost too much blood.

Sam blinked at Dean stupidly for several seconds before he raised his left arm, blood still dripping from the wound. "Huh. I wondered why my arm was hurting." Sam sounded genuinely surprised by that discovery before he shrugged unconcerned, dismissing his bleeding arm as nothing to worry about as he shook his head. "Not a spell to fix my arm," Sam muttered, eyes scanning the book in front of him, mumbling under his breath, concentration once more upon the book.

"What's it a spell for then Sammy?" Dean asked softly, inching closer toward his sibling, the apprehensive feeling within the pit of his stomach increasing when Sam turned to look at him, a sad smile upon his face, longing, and a wistfulness within Sam's hazel eyes that Dean had never seen before.

"I'm gonna _fix_ it Dean. Everything. I'm gonna make you … you'll be proud of me this time around, I promise."

"What are you talking about? What exactly are you trying to fix?"

Sam frowned, shooting Dean a slight bitch face, gesturing wildly between the two of them. "Us Dean. I'm gonna fix this. 'M gonna make it so I don't walk down the path that led to _this_.

All I have to do is change one thing Dean, just one … and all of this … the Darkness, another _evil_ that _I_ set free upon the Earth … _again_ … will be gone." Sam clicked his fingers, a shaky smile surfacing upon his lips. "I promise Dean, I'll make it so you will be proud of me, so that you never went to Hell because of me, and I didn't get addicted to Demon Blood or choose a demon over you; where you wouldn't have to choose an angel, a demon or a vampire over me because you don't trust me no more or you're ashamed of me."

Dean frowned, not liking where his brother's head was at, at the moment. "Sammy, we talked about all of that man. I'm _not_ ashamed of you. Nor have you disappointed me. The Darkness … we can beat her together man, you're not the only one to blame here."

Sam shook his head violently from side to side, tears starting to gather within large sad, puppy eyes. "No, Dean! 'S my fa'lt. And I'm gonna fix it bro. Make you proud … you'll see …"

Dean forgo caution in favour of speed, taking four quick steps which would bring him to within arm's length of his brother. "Sammy," Dean began, holding his hands out in front of him placating when Sam shot him a suspicious, wary look. "Why don't you tell me exactly what the spell does little bro?" He was close enough to restrain Sam now if he had to.

"It's a 'pell where I get to go 'ack and ch-change o-one thin' in my life so I don't walk the same path as this one."

"What exactly does that mean Sam? What do you mean go back?" Dean tried to remain as nonchalant as possible, but his heart thudded loudly in his ears, becoming more scared the more his brother tried to explain.

"One thing Dean," Sam sighed loudly, sounding as if he had the weight of the world upon his shoulders. "At first, I thought I would change it so that I was never born. Mum wouldn't die. Dad wouldn't spend his life hunting down Azazel. You wouldn't be forced growing up having to worry about me and I wouldn't be forced on the path to evil that night because Azazel wouldn't have bled in my mouth and I wouldn't have Demon Blood in me. E'veryone be happy."

Sam grinned, missing the dark scowl that crossed over his older brother's features. "But b'cause of deal Mum made … Yellow-eyes would still have come … cycle be re-repeated whether _I_ was dead or not. Would have just been someone 'lse." Sam shrugged. "So, I can't change that or how we grew up in the life or Dad's obsession to find the demon.

But maybe … maybe it's not somethin' I _did_ ; maybe I can change somethin' bout me. Like …" Sam pursed his lips, tapping his fingers upon his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe I would like hunting instead of craving normal. Be like you De'n. Embrace hunting, embrace the life. No fight with Dad, no leave for Stanford; stay with you Dee … make you proud … "

"Okay, that's enough," Dean stepped forward, grabbing his brother by the arm and not so gently started to drag Sam away from the book and the spell he was about to perform. "I've heard enough of this nonsense Sam. You can't use a _spell_ to erase everything just because you feel bad. That's not how the Winchesters do things. We admit to our mistakes; we face up to it; and then we kick it in the ass like we always do.

What you're trying to do right now … it won't change anything Sam. If you believe everything that the angels said … our paths were already written a long time ago. You were _always_ supposed to go dark side, because you're Lucifer's vessel. And I was _always_ supposed to lose trust and faith in you because I'm Michael's vessel. That's not something you can run and hide from Sam. That's not something you can change or meddle with. What if you make it worse instead of better?

If you _liked_ hunting and the lifestyle … I honestly think you'd be one scary son of a bitch Sam. You'd become cold and callous well before your time. Not going to Stanford … that would _kill_ you Sammy. You were always going to Stanford dude, no matter what."

"No!" Sam yelled, violently yanking himself free from Dean's grip, almost falling upon his butt, but was able to quickly position his feet before he fell ungracefully back to the ground once more. "I hav'ta do this De'n. I hav'ta _try_."

Dean blinked, shocked by the amount of determination he could see upon his little brother's pouting expression.

"Please Dee …" Sam pulled out the one weapon in his arsenal that he knew Dean couldn't resist; the big soulful puppy-eyed look, the tears not needing to be forced or faked, easily springing into his eyes.

"You don' … you don't unde'stand. All my life you've looked afta me, protected me, raised me, given up things so that I could 'ave a betta childhood than you. And what the hell did I do in return for all of that? I bitched, I moaned I _ran_ … I was never satisfied, never 'appy or … I didn' appreciate what you did for me De'n."

Sam's eyes grew wider with hurt and pain. "I followed Ruby, followed Azazel's plans for me to go … _dark side_ , rationalizing my actions away as I was doing it for the "greater good", I was doing it for you … but it was all lies Dean!"

Tears began to spill from Sam's eyes as he desperately tried to explain why this was so important to him. "I was _always_ supposed to go down that path, I know that. But the one thing I regret – apart from setting Lucifer free – was that I b'trayed you.

Afta you went to _Hell_ for me … I returned the favour by gettin' involved with Ruby, gettin' addicted to Demon Blood, not listen to you when you begged me to stop … Dee, please, I _need_ to change that. I need to see if I _can_ change that. I need to _fix_ it man. Please Dee, let me fix this!"

"Okay Sammy, I'm hearing you," Dean stated, surprised when his voice remained relatively steady. "But you aren't the only one who's screwed up man. I did my fair share of screw-ups too.

Listen Sammy, you're drunk, not thinking very clearly … let me help you to bed and if you still feel this way in the morning then … I'll let you do the spell, okay?" Dean offered Sam a forced, fake smile, lying through his teeth because there was no way he would ever allow Sam to complete this spell.

Sure, there were things in the past that Dean wished he had _handled_ differently, been more understanding and open, but Dean would never want his little brother to change who he was … even if all of this was somehow erased.

It had been bad enough when Sam had returned from Hell soulless, and Dean _knew_ that if Sam changed _anything_ about himself; if he didn't go to Stanford, then Sam would return to a version of his soulless self, not caring who he hurt or the short-cuts he would take to complete the hunt, his heart having been ripped apart, withered and dried up long ago; because if Sam lost his dreams, Dean instinctively knew that Sam would lose himself; the special quality that made Sam, Sammy, having died the moment he had given up his own dreams and desires for a life outside of hunting, for a shot at normal.

"Come on Sammy, _please_. Just one night to think things over, that's all I'm asking for bro."

People thought that Sam Winchester could pull off the wounded, pleaded puppy-eyed expression, but few people knew that Dean Winchester could also pull off this look, especially when he was desperate.

And Sam knew, with that one look from his older brother, he could feel his determination wavering. His big brother was pleading, _begging_ , him not to do this, to give it the night. Was he really going to repeat the mistakes he had made by not listening to his brother again?

Sam closed his eyes, reopening them a few seconds later as he reluctantly nodded his consent. "Okay Dean, I'll give you the night," he relented.

Dean let out a sigh of relief, quickly reaching for his wildly swaying sibling. "Come on little bro, let's you get you to bed, okay?"

Sam reached out to grab hold of Dean's out stretched hand, swaying wilding, his vision starting to blur, leaning his bleeding arm against the bowl of ingredients he had been mixing in order to complete the spell, trying to regain his balance before he tried reaching for Dean again, when the next thing Sam knew, the ingredients bowl was flying; Sam was falling; a white powdery essence falling over him; his older brother's look of panicked alarm as he screamed out Sam's name; an explosion of pain to the back of his head, before he was completely overwhelmed by the darkness that descended over him.

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

Dean's heart clenched in his throat when he saw his brother begin his almost slow motion descent to the ground. Dean tried to grab one of Sam's flailing arms, but his hand clamped around nothing but air.

"Sam!" Dean cried out in panic and could do nothing but watch in horror as his younger brother hit the ground hard; the back of Sam's head landing against the floor with a deafening crack that had Dean wincing in pain.

Dean stood there for several long heart beats, unable to move as he looked upon Sam's deadly still unconscious form, the ingredients from the spell Sam had been about to attempt, scattered about his brother's upper chest.

At any moment Dean expected his brother to get up, telling Dean to stop laughing as Sam shot Dean his infamous bitch face; but Sam didn't get up. He didn't move, groan or twitch. He just lay there, unmoving, completely still and if Dean didn't know any better he'd think that Sam was …

Dean swallowed hard, pushing that thought to the back of his mind, a calm determination coming over him as he ran a critical eye over his brother's unconscious (not dead, damn it!) form, his eyes coming to rest upon the small patch of blood that was building at the base of Sam's head.

Fuck, head wound!

It was as if the sight of Sam's freshly pooling blood snapped him back into reality and before Dean was even consciously aware of moving, he found himself kneeling at Sam's side, gently gathering his brother's head in between his hands.

"Sam … Sammy, can you hear me?" Dean's heart pounded frantically against his chest, his fingers automatically probing at the back of Sam's skull, searching for the wound at the back of Sam's head, trying to determine how bad it was and if he needed to get Sam to a hospital ASAP.

"Oh God Sammy," Dean groaned helplessly, the building panic within him making it almost impossible for Dean to think straight. "Come on buddy, talk to me. Give me a sign that you're still with me."

Dean's fingers located the wound and he inspected the damage with gentle fingers, trying not to move Sam's head too much in case he caused more damage to his brother … like accidently paralysing him …

Dean's panic began to subside when he realized that the wound wasn't too deep – more than a graze actually – but head wounds tended to bleed a lot more than other wounds; and with the blood Sam had already lost, Dean feared that his brother may soon be suffering from blood loss if he didn't get the bleeding under control.

"It's okay Sammy," Dean murmured softly, more reassured when he saw his brother's chest rising and falling as Dean's shaky fingers registered a pulse, knowing for sure now that his little brother was definitely alive; just unconscious and not dead like he had feared earlier.

"I'll just get this bleeding under control and then you'll be right as rain, won't ya Sammy? You'll wake up and then the two of us will laugh our asses off because of how drunk you were and … God Sammy, I'm so sorry."

Dean's voice broke off on a sob, even as he moved to stop the flow of blood from his brother's wounds, his body on autopilot, having preformed these tasks hundreds of times over the years when he'd had to patch up his younger brother.

"You … why the hell do you have go and blame yourself for shit that you had no control over? You should be angry with me Sam. You should be furious with me, not feeling bad because you think you've somehow failed me."

Dean rested his head against his brother's forehead. "You've never failed me Sammy, not once," Dean whispered, hoping that would be all Sam would need to hear before he woke up, hung-over and embarrassed, but otherwise fine.

"I'm the one who failed you Sammy," Dean admitted. "I'm the one who lost faith in you time and again, while you … you never lost faith in me. And I … I'm sorry I couldn't be the big brother that you deserve. I'm the one who's sorry Sammy; I'm the one who's tried to kill you over and over, even when I vowed to protect you, always.

You have done nothing wrong little brother. You hear me? C'mon Sammy, come back to me … _please_ ," Dean pleaded, becoming a tad desperate now when there was still no sign of movement from his little brother.

God … now what did he do?

Dean closed his eyes, hand resting upon his brother's upper chest, the steady rising and falling of Sam's chest helping Dean to calm down enough where he could begin to think rationally and logically again.

After a couple of deep breaths, Dean opened his eyes, his panic quelled for the time being as he took in his brother's appearance. The bleeding to both his arm and head was now under control, Sam's complexion was not overly pale, his skin didn't feel clammy to the touch and from what Dean could see Sam didn't appear to be shaking, so that indicated that Sam wasn't suffering from shock or blood loss; although Dean had wrapped his brother up in a couple of blankets to prevent at least shock from kicking in.

Sam looked fine. And if Dean didn't know any better, he would think that Sam was just sleeping off the alcohol, but … his little brother was never this still. Even in sleep, Sam would always be moving, twitching or groaning. Now, he was still and silent and Dean couldn't help but frown with worry and concern over that.

The head wound was what Dean was most worried about; concussion being one of the bigger worries, not to mention brain haemorrhage …

Dean tried to control his rising agitation and fear, knowing that he wouldn't be able to gauge his brother's condition until Sam regained consciousness. Until then, all Dean could do was to make his brother as comfortable as possible and patiently wait for Sam to open his eyes.

But Dean wasn't known for his patience – especially when Sammy was concerned – and not long after making sure Sam was comfortable, Dean was on his feet and looking at the book that Sam had been intently focused upon, trying to determine which spell his brother had been so desperate on performing.

As Dean's eyes skimmed over the page, taking in the list of ingredients Sam would need to complete the spell, a sudden realization began to dawn on him that the one ingredient Sam had been missing in order to complete the spell had been his blood.

When Sam had staggered, before trying to regain his balance, Dean had noticed that Sam's bleeding arm had brushed over the bowl of ingredients before Sam had crashed onto the floor, unconscious.

Wait a minute, did this mean that Sam had completed the spell? Was he unconscious because he had bashed his head onto the ground or was it because of the spell? Dean's eyes grew wide with fear as he spun around and glanced at his unmoving sibling once more.

Oh no. No, no, no, no.

Sam couldn't have completed the spell. He would have needed to utter an incantation for it to have worked, right? There was no way that …

"Cas!" Dean called out loudly, quickly rushing back to his room in order to grab his phone. If Sam's unconsciousness was due to a spell, then Dean needed to know about it, now! And the only person that Dean knew who could tell it Sam was trapped in a spell or just suffering from concussion was the angel – former angel of the Lord – Castiel.

Dean hadn't seen the angel since … he'd almost beaten him to death, the Mark on Dean's arm blazing with vengeance and blood, wanting to find retribution for Charlie's death by storming the Styne's family residence and blasting each and every one of them out of existence.

Cas had tried to stop Dean from leaving the Men of Letters bunker after the massacre and Dean's response to that was to beat the angel, his friend, his _family_ into a bloody pulp, leaving him shattered and broken as Dean walked away, not even caring if the angel lived or died.

Dean swallowed back the intense feeling of guilt and remorse for the actions he had committed while under the Mark's influence, as he found Castiel's number in his phone and dialled him. He had no time to worry about his pride, guilt or anxiousness that Castiel wouldn't want to talk to him again after Dean had almost killed him, because his little brother was in trouble and needed help.

If Dean had to beg the angel to help, then that's exactly what Dean would do. He was not going to fail Sam again. And Dean would use whatever means necessary to bring his brother back to him.

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

Castiel hadn't returned any of the messages Dean had left for the angel over the past hour; even when Dean's voice had cracked with emotion as he begged for the angel's help, explaining that Sam was in trouble and needed help, it was to help Sam, not Dean, but Castiel still hadn't responded.

Even when Dean's voice had become so hoarse and ragged from calling and praying to the angel; Castiel still didn't respond; not one peep, not even a 'fuck you, Dean!', nothing, nada, zilch.

So, that either meant that Castiel was holding one hell of a grudge and was through with helping the Winchester siblings or, he was in trouble.

Dean really hoped it was because Castiel was pissed at him and not because he was in trouble. Dean didn't even know where to start looking for his friend – not that he would go and leave Sam vulnerable, unprotected and alone like this – so all Dean could do was to keep calling Cas and hope by some miracle that the angel would answer.

"Fuck Sammy, what do I do?" Dean whispered, desperation clearly evident within his voice as he carded restless fingers through his brother's dark hair, willing Sam to wake up.

But Sam remained unnaturally still and silent as Dean checked Sam's vitals for what seemed like the millionth time tonight. Pulse was strong, if a bit erratic; breathing was well within the normal range; but Sam's basic reflexes … they elicited no response from the younger hunter what so ever.

Dean had considered duplicating the spell, but without knowing exactly which spell Sam had been doing and not knowing if the spell would take him to where Sam was or maybe would grant him a wish of his own, Dean was reluctant to try it.

What if he performed the spell and Sam woke up, his unconsciousness due to his head wound and not the spell? Without knowing exactly what was causing his brother's unconsciousness – spell or head wound – Dean couldn't take that risk. He had to be here for Sam when – not if – his brother woke up.

Having exhausted nearly all of his options; Castiel wasn't returning either his phone messages or his prayers and not willing to do the spell, Dean could see only one viable option left. If Sam didn't regain consciousness soon, Dean would have no choice but to load his brother into the Impala and drive to the nearest hospital, where they hopefully would be able to hell him if this was caused through natural causes – concussion, head wound – or they had absolutely no idea of why his brother was in this form of what Dean considered was some kind of coma.

But Dean hesitated to take Sam to the hospital for the simple fact that Dean knew how much Sam hated hospitals. For all Dean knew, Sam could just be sleeping off the alcohol; no head wound; no spell and he could be panicking for absolutely no reason at all.

God, Dean hoped that was the case.

"Come on little brother, just wake up," Dean pleaded, grabbing one of Sam's limp hands in his own, squeezing gently, hoping to get some sort of response from his brother. "Come on dude, enough with the girlie dramatics. Open your eyes and let me know you're all right in there."

No groan, no eye roll, no Sammy bitch face, nothing. But as Dean was readjusting the blanket about his little brother's body, Dean couldn't help but notice a scar which seemed to magically appear upon Sam's upper left shoulder.

What the hell …

Dean frowned, perplexed by this scar because Dean had never seen it before. And Dean knew _all_ of the scars his baby brother had acquired over the years through hunts or accidents, and this one, upon Sam's left shoulder was not one of them.

Gently, Dean trailed a finger down the length of the scar, gasping in surprise when a sudden memory invaded him and he could now recall with vivid clarity how Sam had obtained this scar.

The night Sam had left for Stanford, after storming out of the house, after the gruelling argument Sam had had with their father; Dean had spent hours driving around, trying to track that damn kid down, even if it was just to give him a ride to the bus depot. But Dean hadn't been able to find his brother anywhere.

Returning back to the cabin where the Winchesters had been living for the past month, Dean returned back to discover that John had done a disappearing act and left a bloody unconscious little brother upon the ground.

Sam had returned and John, in his drunken state had decided to teach his youngest a lesson in discipline and obeying orders, something that Sam would never forget.

Sam had had to have an operation upon his shoulder in order to put it back together again, screws having to be inserted to hold it in place.

That's where this scar had come from.

Dean recalled being so furious with John for the abhorrent way he had treated Sammy, that he had been tempted to pack Sam up and leave their father for good. But Sam had convinced Dean to stay, that Dad needed them and they needed to stay together as a family. And John … he had apologized profusely the next day, the alcohol he had consumed, clouded his judgement, making him see red for a few minutes, having no control over his actions as he hit upon his youngest son.

John swore to Dean that it would never happen again. And if John ever laid an aggressive hand upon Sammy ever gain, he would leave and never come back – after Dean expelled some of his own vengeance upon the old man.

Against his better judgement, Dean had accepted their Dad's apology and Sam's pleas for them to stay together as a family and let the matter rest.

But … hadn't Sam gone to Stanford? For two years? Sam had left the two of them behind and struck out on his own for a slice of normal.

Dean could vividly recall that's what had happened. So why did he suddenly have this _other_ memory of Sam returning home to them and not going to Stanford at all?

It had to be the spell, Dean suddenly realized. Sam had succeeded in casting the spell and now he had been given his chance to change one aspect about his past. And obviously Sam had decided to make it so that he'd never attended Stanford.

"Oh God Sammy, what are you doing?" Dean whispered in Sam's ear, suddenly terrified of the changes that could occur because of that decision. "Stop this right now and just come home little brother. Please, before it's too late," Dean pleaded, watching with horror as new bruises, abrasions, cuts and scars appeared upon his younger brother's body.

And each time Dean touched the new marks upon Sam's body, a new, foreign memory would spring into his mind of how it had occurred. And Dean realized that a lot of these new marks had to do with – not only hunts that his brother had never been involved in because he'd been at Stanford – but John Winchester's own hands as Sam and John's arguments grew more physical the more time the two of them spent together.

"Sammy, stop this, _please_." Dean begged, tears beginning to roll down his checks as the terror and horrors of another life invaded and closed in on his mind.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Warnings:** Harsh language, violence, some physical violence but nothing too graphic, thoughts of self-incrimination.

 **Author's Note:** Not quite sure where this one came from. Not even sure if I like it or not but … it is set just after The Darkness is released. I have no knowledge of spells or how to perform them, so I have just used my imagination.

Sorry guys, but this chapter was a … real pain in the butt for me. It didn't flow for me at all, which is why it took me a little longer to complete. Still not entirely sure about this whole concept of a story, but will keep plugging away at it for all of you guys who have shown interest in it so far. Your continued support is gratefully accepted by me and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Kas3y** and **Wayward-or-Awkward** and **Pie Love Luci** for your review and your kind words. Because of you guys I have decided to post the next chapter. Fingers crossed that you guys like this. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time out to read this, your support means a lot, thanks.

 **UNFORGIVEN REMEDY**

 **CHAPTER THREE**

Sam awoke to a pounding headache, his mouth dry, an annoying tap to his shoulder bringing him from the peaceful slumber of sleep and into the land of consciousness where every part of his body seemed to _hurt_.

God, how much had he had to drink last night?

Desperate to relieve the dryness of his mouth, Sam licked his lips, swallowing several times as he opened his blurry eyes and shot his annoying older brother an agitated look as Dean continued to tap incessantly upon Sam's shoulder.

"Dude, enough with the tapping, I'm awake all ready." Sam growled, his tone taking on an unusual whine he hadn't heard in years.

"Well, it's about time Princess," Dean chuckled, sounding way too happy and chipper for this ungodly hour of the morning as he immediately stopped his infuriating tapping now that Sam was awake. "Come on Sammy, it's time to get up and get moving for the day."

"It's Sam," Sam ground out before he could stop himself, groaning inwardly as he manoeuvred himself into a sitting position.

"Yeah, whatever _Sam_ ," Dean scoffed playfully. "But we really need to get a move on if we're going to stop that vision you had from happening."

Those words, more than anything else caused Sam to become fully alert, frowning, confused, his eyes tracking his older brother's back as Dean walked back to the table where two bags of fast food stood.

"V-vision?" Sam stammered, not completely sure if he had heard Dean correctly or maybe Dean was playing some kind of trick on him because Sam hadn't experienced any visions in _years_.

But now that Sam thought about it, the pounding in his head did seem familiar to him as a vision induced headache and not a hung over induced headache, caused through drinking too much alcohol.

"Yes, _vision_ Sam," Dean replied as he dug through one of the paper bags and brought out a burger. "It is why we hauled ass to get here, after all, driving most of the night so we could stop Jessica Moore from being murdered by the demon, right?"

Sam gasped, shocked at Dean's words. Jessica? Was Dean talking about _his_ Jessica? But she had died years ago and they already knew that she had died as a ploy for Sam to get back into hunting because yellow-eyes feared that Sam was getting too soft. Why the hell was Dean talking about Jessica as if she was still alive? Was this some kind of cruel prank his brother was playing on him?

Sam shook his head, instantly disregarding that thought. Even though the brothers played prank wars on each other from time to time, Sam knew that Dean would _never_ play such a despicable and cruel prank as this. Which meant that Dean was being completely serious right now.

Sam's eyes widened with surprise when Dean turned around to grin at him because Dean looked _young_. He looked like he had when he had come to get Sam from Stanford all of those years ago. But how could this be? Was this a dream? Or had Sam somehow been sent to an alternate universe? Or …

Vaguely, Sam could remember swaying over a spell book, explaining to Dean that he was going to fix everything, make Dean proud of him, and all he had to do was to change just one aspect of his life.

"The spell … " Sam whispered, not quite sure if he should be relieved or horrified that the spell had actually worked and wondering just what aspect of his life had changed that had led him back to Palo Alto in order to save the woman that he had once loved in another life …

"What was that?" Dean asked distractedly as he started to bite into his burger. "Hey, you know what I just realized little brother? You finally get to visit that fancy school you were obsessed about going to four years ago."

"Stanford," Sam murmured wonderingly. "I didn't go to Stanford."

"Nope." Dean grinned around another bite of burger. "But you came bloody close to going. Not sure what changed your mind, but …" Dean paused as he peered thoughtfully at Sam, his expression more sombre and serious now. "Sometimes I think you should have gone to Stanford Sammy," Dean admitted softly.

"It's Sam," Sam corrected automatically. "Why would you say that Dean? Isn't it better that we stayed together as a family?"

"Yeah, right!" Dean scoffed loudly. "The way you and Dad have been slugging it out over the years …" Dean's expression suddenly darkened into a look Sam knew all too well; the fierce big brother protective look. "The way that you let Dad _hit_ you … _beat_ you … and you didn't say a damn word to me about it. I just think that sometimes it would have been better if you had gone to Stanford, you know?"

"What?!" Sam gasped, completely shocked and stunned at his brother's words. John Winchester had _never_ raised a hand in anger toward Sam … _ever_ … so; he was having a hard time picturing that same father beating him.

"Hey, I'm sorry Sammy," Dean sighed, his expression softening when he noticed his younger brother's pale complexion. "I shouldn't have brought that up." Dean murmured, gently patting his brother consolingly upon the shoulder.

At Dean's touch, Sam was suddenly bombarded with images of John's fists flying toward him in a drunken fuelled rage, while Sam stood there and took the beating because his family had to stay together; they had to stay together no matter what because Sam would do whatever it took to make Dean proud of him. And John …

"He was trying to help Dean," Sam said quietly. "I needed discipline, guiding, and sometimes … sometimes I needed to be taught a lesson, learn my place. He thought … he thought he could beat the evil out of me."

Sam lowered his head, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes at the intensity of these memories, both understanding his father's reasoning behind his … "lessons" … and appalled by the fact that John Winchester had been reduced to a bitter, abusive alcoholic all because Sam had decided _not_ to go to Stanford.

Still, none of that mattered because despite all of the fighting, arguments and beatings from John, Dean had stuck by Sam's side through everything. Even when John had disappeared from their lives a year ago, claiming that he needed to get his head clear, needed to get clean (Sam suspected Dean had something to do with their Dad leaving once he'd walked in on one of John's teachable "lessons"), Dean had stuck with Sam and Sam knew that he still had a chance to make this right.

He could still complete his wish. He could still make Dean proud of him, never travelling down the path of evil and causing such emotional scars to be carved upon his older brother's soul when Sam had chosen a demon over his own brother.

Sam could still correct this. He could still _fix_ it.

" _Oh God Sammy, what are you doing?"_ Sam could hear _his_ Dean's voice resounding within his ear. _"Stop this right now and just come home little brother. Please, before it's too late."_

Sam closed his eyes at _his_ Dean's desperate tone, practically begging Sam to come back. "Sorry Dean, I can't. Not yet. I can still fix this so that you never go to Hell and I never hurt you. I can fix it so that everything that has happened to us over the years will never happen. You'll be happy Dean, I promise." Sam silently vowed to himself, hoping that _his_ Dean could hear him and understand why Sam had to continue with this course of action.

"Evil?" Dean growled, his body beginning to vibrate with anger, bringing Sam back to the present, once again facing a young, rash, volatile Dean who would do anything to protect his little brother from harm. "Is that what _Dad_ told you Sam? That you were _evil_?" Dean demanded, his hold upon Sam's shoulder tightening, the look in those intense green eyes causing Sam to become speechless for a moment.

"Because you know that's all crap, right Sammy? You're not evil. And Dad didn't beat you to teach you a lesson or show you the errors of your ways." Dean rolled his eyes sarcastically. "As much as he tried to convince me otherwise. He did it because he's a fucking coward and couldn't handle his own guilt because he forced you to stay with us instead of letting you go to Stanford."

Sam was surprised at the bitterness he could hear within Dean's voice while discussing their father; a man Dean had once admired and looked up to; a man who could do no wrong in Dean's eyes; a man who Dean had defended right until the end … when John had made the deal with Azazel for his life in exchange for Dean's. And now, Sam was shocked to hear such loathing and scorn ooze from his older brother's tone when talking about the old man he had once idolized and revered.

Sam bit his lip worriedly, not sure if it was a good thing to take away Dean's idol, his mentor, his hero away from him, leaving Dean filled with unresolved bitterness, rage and hate.

 _His_ Dean still had a hard time today admitting that their Dad had made his fair share of mistakes, he still felt tremendous guilt and remorse, leaving him to drown in regret, broken, never quite getting over what Dad had done for him.

If _his_ Dean was like that without John having laid a hand upon Sam, what would _this_ Dean be like in years to come because John had been physically abusing his son?

Sam shuddered at that thought. He was supposed to be making it better for Dean, not worse.

" _Sammy, stop this,_ _ **please**_ _." His_ Dean's voice resounded within his mind and Sam was almost tempted to comply with _his_ Dean's wish because he was honestly scared of what Dean would become because he had lost faith, belief and trust in the man he had once admired and looked up to, when young Dean's grip upon his shoulder eased and he pulled Sam into a warm, loving embrace.

"I'm sorry Sammy," Dean murmured in his ear, his voice normal and free from the bitter anguish Sam had heard in it just seconds ago. "I know talking about that son of a bitch makes you uncomfortable and nervous. But I need you to know little brother, that none of what happened is your fault, okay?"

Dean pulled back to wipe at tears Sam didn't even know he'd been shedding. "It just makes me so mad that the old man used you as a punching bag and you didn't tell me about it. If I'd known what was going on, there's no way we would have stayed with him for all of these years.

You know that, right Sammy? You know that I'll never let anyone hurt you like that again? And as long as I'm around, nothing bad is ever going to happen to you. I promise. Besides," a light, almost sad grin surfaced upon his brother's features. "It's you and me against the world, right Sammy?"

"Yeah," Sam breathed out, a sense of relief filling him at how … _Dean_ -like this alternate, younger version of his brother sounded. Maybe he could still make this work. Make it right for his big brother.

"I know all of that Dean. No matter what, you've always looked after me." Sam owed this man everything. And he was more determined than ever to fix it so that his big brother didn't have to suffer needlessly because of Sam's selfish actions.

"Damn straight," Dean answered proudly, his trade-mark smirk in place.

"Just one thing though Dean," Sam said, causing Dean to pause in his tracks as he turned to face Sam, a questioning look upon his face.

"What's that Sammy?"

"The name's _Sam_ Dean, not Sammy," Sam stated, smiling wildly while winking to let Dean know that he was only teasing.

"Right, okay _Sam_." Dean laughed, deliberately ruffling Sam's long hair in order to mess it up. "Okay, if we've had enough heart to heart girlie talks here, how bout you get out of bed, eat breakfast and get ready for the day so that we can go and save the damsel in distress?"

 **SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW**

They had saved Jessica.

Sam couldn't believe it because when he'd had the visions in his other life, Sam had never really been able to save anyone or change anything. But here, in this life … Sam had saved someone. And not just anyone; he'd saved the love of his life.

It had been a bit surreal to have Jessica treat Sam like some stranger – even though that's what he was to her in this time-line – when previously the two of them had been so close and intimate with each other that Sam had seriously considered marrying her. But, somehow Sam had managed to pull it off without embarrassing himself too much.

He might even have made a play for her if Jessica hadn't already been involved with someone else … her roommate … Samara. Yep; it seemed that the Jessica in this time was into chicks.

Sam sighed loudly as he turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature to hot as he slowly stepped out of his jeans, perplexed as to why Jess had been targeted by the demon at all.

If Sam had never gone to Stanford – as he hadn't in this time-line – then what reason would the demon have to go after Jess at all? Sam frowned thoughtfully as he recalled Jessica's roommate and partner.

Not only did Samara – "I call her Sam for short," Jessica had laughed, gazing at _her_ Sam lovingly, the same looks that she had bestowed upon Sam numerous times in his previous life – look a hell of a lot like Sam himself – except in girl form – but there had been something within her dark eyes which Sam had instantly been drawn to.

Wait a minute; was it possible that Samara was a _special_ kid; a psychic like Sam, Andy, Max, Ava and all of the others? Is that why Sam had had a vision about Jessica's death? Not because he'd been connected to Jess in a previous, different life, but because he had connected with Samara, Jessica's partner?

Hmm, that possibility was definitely worth considering, Sam mused as he stripped off the rest of his clothes and walked toward the shower, consciously aware of the fact that he had to leave at least some of the hot water for his brother, pondering the connection that Jessica's roommate may have with the demon and with Sam himself. Which meant that maybe Jessica's life was still in danger, maybe Sam had only managed to save her this time because she wasn't supposed to die yet.

Sam's thoughts were pulled abruptly back into the present when he passed the full-length bathroom mirror (seriously, what sleazy motel was this that had a full-length mirror in the bathroom?!) when out of the corner of his eyes, Sam spotted a large, jagged scar running from the length of his shoulder and all the way down to his foot.

It wasn't in a continuous line, Sam noted, but rather in a zig-zag pattern. And if Sam didn't know any better, he'd swear that the scar looked like some kind of deep whip mark. But no one had ever _whipped_ him … had they?

Turning slightly so that Sam could peer at more of his back, he gasped as he noticed that his back was littered with scars. Some of them were extremely visible, deep and Sam could only imagine how painful those wounds had been; and others were faded, not so visible or noticeable.

"What the hell …" Sam muttered to himself as he trailed a gentle finger down one of the nastier looking scars. What the hell had happened to make his back look as if he'd been scratched up by a frenzied werewolf or …

It _had_ been a whip, Sam's mind supplied as he was thrust, without warning into a barrage of new images that were now a part of his collective memories of this different life that he found himself living in.

Sam had been stripped naked, his arms suspended above him in handcuffs which were linked to chains, which hung from the rafters in an old barn that the Winchesters where residing in at the moment.

Sam fell to his knees, exhausted, bitting upon his bottom lip to keep in the screams of agonized pain that wanted to rip from his throat; but he knew that he had to stay quiet. He had to keep his screams to whimpers and gasps if he didn't want his big brother to find out exactly what was going on in here.

"I'm sorry Sammy," John Winchester said, guilt and remorse in his voice as he landed another solid blow of the whip to his youngest son's unprotected back. "But this is the only way left that I can get the evil out of you. I've tried everything else and it hasn't worked. So this is my last resort son. I'm sorry."

Sam gritted his teeth together, hands clasped tightly into fists, his body taunt as blow after blow rained down upon him.

God, it hurt so badly. And Sam wanted nothing more than to call out to his big brother for help but … Sam knew that he had to keep quiet about this. Dean couldn't know what was happening, because if he did, Sam knew that Dean would take him away from Dad, and as much as Sam wanted to be away from his father right now, Sam instinctively knew that the three of them _needed_ to stay together.

Sam didn't know _why_ it was so important for his family to stay together; he only knew that something … terrible would happen if they were split apart.

Sam could handle the pain. He could. After all, it wasn't as if this was the first time Sam had been whipped. But it was definitely the first time it had been so intense and brutal.

Sam had spent _hours_ – well, what felt like hours – feeling the whip decorate his back with bright red blotches, exhaustion filling him, his head falling forward onto his heaving chest in defeat, surrendering completely to his father's will and praying that this time John would be able to get the evilness out of him.

Because Sam honestly didn't know how much longer he could hide this from his brother. Dean was already becoming suspicious as it was. But after tonight … Sam had no clue how he would explain these injuries to his overprotective sibling.

Sam's vision began to blur, dark spots beginning to flash in front of him and Sam almost sobbed in relief because he knew that at any moment now he would succumb to the blessed relief of unconsciousness, taking him away from the agonizing pain he was in.

Just before Sam was pulled into the comforting embrace of unconsciousness, Sam could have sworn that he could hear the low growling, angry voice of his older brother. But that was impossible because Dean was sleeping, recovering from the wounds he had sustained from this latest hunt, protecting Sam because Sam had stuffed up again.

That mistake had almost cost Sam his older brother's life. And that was why this particular "lesson" was so brutal. John had come to the conclusion that Sam had _purposely_ allowed Dean to get hurt – as if Sam would ever allow that to happen! – and John was trying to free Sam from the evil, the only way he knew how.

There was no way that Dean could be here. It was just a product of his over active imagination, was Sam's last thought before he welcomed and eagerly embraced the darkness of unconsciousness.

 **SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW**

It had been two hours now since his brother had fallen into this mysterious unconscious, coma-like state … well, not so mysterious since Dean now knew that it was because of the spell his stupidly, stubborn, moronic little brother had performed with the unrealistic notion of changing _their_ lives for the better.

Dean was anxiously pacing the library, shooting quick glances at his brother to make sure he was okay before doing another lap of the library, not knowing what options he had left available to him now.

There was still no word from their angel ally, and Dean had to suspect the worst; that his friend was in some kind of trouble because Dean knew that Cas wouldn't abandon Sam, no matter how pissed off at Dean he was. And although concerned at his friend's continued lack of communication, Dean was more worried and concerned about his brother.

Sam still hadn't moved since falling under his weirdo spell and that somehow upped Dean's anxiousness to a whole new level of panic because he wasn't used to seeing his brother lying so still and unmoving. It just wasn't natural.

After Dean's heart-felt plea for Sam to come back, Dean had _thought_ he'd heard Sam reply, saying something along the lines of that he couldn't come back yet and he could still make it right, he would still fix it. And that caused Dean to become more frustrated at his little brother because what Sam was doing and attempting to do … it was _dangerous_.

Already, Dean could recall the changes Sam had apparently made in another life whenever Dean touched a new scar or wound that would magically appear upon his younger brother's body. And the changes that Dean saw … they were not good. Especially the last … "memories" Dean had seen.

Walking into an unfamiliar, yet familiar, barn to see his little brother strung up, naked, bloody welts upon his back, shoulders, ass and legs, on the verge of unconsciousness as John Winchester _whipped_ his baby brother …

Dean shuddered at that "memory", appalled and horrified to think that _his father_ was responsible for causing Sam so much pain and suffering all because he _thought_ he could _beat_ the evil out of his youngest son.

Evil?

Dean snorted at that thought. Sam may be a lot of things, and he may not think things through properly, but being evil wasn't one of them. Sam didn't have a mean bone in his body. And although Sam had been corrupted, influenced and led astray by demons over the years, that didn't mean that his brother was evil.

The John Winchester that Dean had grown up with, had admired and who he tried to emulate in his everyday life, would _never_ have stooped so low as to beat and whip his own son. _His_ Dad wasn't delusional enough to think that his son was evil and the only way to help Sam was to beat it out of him.

But this _other_ John Winchester … Dean could still recall the absolute conviction within familiar – yet unfamiliar – dark eyes, that what he was doing to Sam … to their youngest family member … was the only way John had left in which he could save his baby boy.

While John had babbled his insane reasons for why stringing his own son up, _naked_ and whipping him was a completely rational and viable option – the only option John had left available to him in order to _save_ his son – Dean could see the sheer madness shinning in those familiar – yet unfamiliar – eyes.

 _This_ John was completely and utterly being driven mad in his efforts to "save" Sammy. Dean could see figments of guilt and remorse at the extreme actions he had taken in order to cure Sammy from the darkness … the evil within him, but those emotions were overshadowed by the complete conviction that what he was doing … it was the only way he could help and save his son from the dark and evil destiny that foreshadowed the youngest Winchester's life.

Not once had _this_ John shown one ounce of sorrow or sympathy for what he was doing – and had been doing – to Sam. As far as John was concerned, beating and _whipping_ his _naked_ son while stringing him up to the rafters in an old dusty barn was an acceptable course of action in John Winchester's books and had to be done in order to rid Sam of the evil that was consuming him.

John was convinced that he had done nothing wrong and everything he had done and was still doing was for the good of his family. He had to do this in order to save Sammy. And this particular … "lesson" … had to be extreme because John had somehow gotten it into his delusional mind that Sam had deliberately screwed up this latest hunt in order to cause Dean to become hurt because Sam had been trying to kill him.

Dean had scoffed at that notion; his horror giving way to anger and rage now. Because John had _promised_ that _this_ would never happen again and now …

Dean remembered his fists flying, striking John repeatedly in the face, telling John exactly what he thought of his Dad's so-called intervention methods in regards to his baby brother. Dean had made it crystal clear to John that _he_ was no longer welcome in the brothers' lives anymore. Dean was taking Sam away from John's abusive ass and if John tried to find them or came after them, then Dean would have no problem in finishing what he had started here today.

Dean's number one priority would _always_ be Sammy. And no one … not even John Winchester … had the right to treat _his_ little brother in such an abhorrent and horrendous manner.

Luckily, John hadn't fought back and had left without giving Dean any grief; he must have sensed that his oldest son would have no trouble in following through with his promise. And Dean had quickly taken his younger brother away from that place; away from John Winchester, hoping that John could maybe one day clear his mind of the madness and delusional thinking that had befallen him.

Dean shook his head, trying to shake these new "memories" from his mind, feeling sick at heart at the man this other John Winchester had become. _His_ Dad, _his_ idol, would _never_ , no matter what happened or didn't happen, touch either of his sons in physical anger or teach his boys any "lesson" by inducing fear and brutality through the means of a whip.

Dean had to believe that _his_ Dad, his real Dad, would never succumb to the corruptness of madness that this other John had. Why Sam was still there, fighting for that horrible existence of a life was something Dean couldn't comprehend.

Even though Sam and their Dad had had numerous fights of the years, neither one of them had ever hit the other one, no matter how angry or passionate they had become.

Once John had shoved Sam away from him during one of their more volatile arguments, but Dean quickly intervened, standing in between his two arguing family members and had ordered both of them to separate sides of the room to cool off.

Dean could recall the stunned, hut look upon Sam's face at having been shoved – something that had never happened before nor did it happen again after this incident – and the surprised, guilt shinning within the oldest Winchester's dark eyes once he realized what he had done; and his immediate remorse and heart-felt apology after the fact.

Their Dad may not have been there for the two of them all of their lives like Sam – and Dean too, if he was being completely honest with himself – had wanted, and he never would have won any Father of the Year Awards, but he had _never_ and would _never_ raise his fists to either of his sons in anger. John loved them both in his own way, Dean knew that, and the last thing John would have ever wanted was to cause his boys intentional pain.

That's why Dean found it hard to visualize this other John hurting Sammy in such a cowardly, horrendous way, because _his_ Dad would never have done that, no matter what.

A slight sigh or gasp had Dean stopping in his tracks as he spun around to look at Sam so fast that he almost gave himself whiplash, hope making his heart beat faster, praying to whoever would be listening, that his brother had had enough of that horrific life and was finally coming back to him.

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

Sam blinked, slowly emerging from his memories and back to the present, swallowing back his nausea as he quickly moved away from the mirror, avoiding looking at the scars across his back as he climbed into the shower, desperate to escape the barrage of images that had just invaded his mind.

Sam yelped in surprise and pain when the scolding hot water hit him. Shit! He'd forgotten to turn the cold water on.

With a shaking hand, Sam readjusted the shower's temperature, wishing that the water on the shower could wash away those memories as easily as it was washing away the dirt from his body.

It made Sam sad to think of the pitiful man John Winchester had become in this time-line. _His_ Dad would never have resorted to such drastic measures as whipping Sam, believing that he could beat the evil out of his youngest son. _His_ Dad would have exhausted every other option available, rather than resort to … _beating_ his own son.

Damn, this time-line was so _jacked_!

Sam had honestly thought that if he had never gone to Stanford, if he had stayed with his family, hunting and saving people, that it would bring all three Winchesters closer together, but in all honestly, it had driven them further apart.

His Dad, in this time-line, had become so obsessed with saving Sam that he had failed to see that he was causing more harm than good with his actions. It seemed that, even though Sam had decided to stay, his family still broke apart; Dean and Sam moving off in one direction, while John was God knows where, doing God knows what.

Even in this time-line, it seemed that Sam couldn't stop screwing up.

God, maybe this was all just a big mistake. Maybe Sam should just go back to _his_ Dean, to _his_ time-line and try to figure out another way that he could absolve his brother and make his brother's life easier.

" _Okay Sammy, you've had your fun. It's time for you to come home now little brother," his_ Dean's no nonsense tone filled his mind, not quite an order, more bordering on a desperate plea. And was that _fear_ that Sam could detect within Dean's voice? _"Before something horrible happens, before you can't come back … please Sammy, come back to me and I_ _ **swear**_ _that we will fix all of this together …"_

Sam closed his eyes, his resolve beginning to falter under _his_ Dean's words. His brother was right. This wasn't working. It was time for Sam to go home and face the consequences of his actions with his brother. He didn't deserve to have a do-over. This was supposed to be a _better_ life for Dean.

But now, all Sam had succeeded in doing was causing a rift between Dean and their Dad, and Sam didn't know if this Dean would ever recover from something like that.

Time to chalk this up to another failure and go home.

Sam paused, on the verge of going back to his time, when the sounds of a fight made him spring into action before he even realized what he was doing. Dean was beyond that door. And if Dean was in trouble, then Sam couldn't, in good conscious, leave this time-line until he knew his brother was safe.

Sam quickly wrapped a towel around his waist and flung open the bathroom door, remembering that he had placed his gun upon the night-table beside his bed.

Sam was hoping that the element of surprise would aid him as he rushed to the bedside table to get his gun before a familiar voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Sammy, glad you finally decided to come out of the shower and join us. Come on son, I think the three of us are long overdue for a family meeting."

"Dad," Sam gasped, eyes widening in disbelief when he saw Dean in a chair, slumped forward, obviously knocked out cold.

"Oh God, Dean!" Sam reached his older brother in three quick strides, kneeling down to gauge what sort of injury his older brother had obtained. "Dad, what have you done?" Sam raised accusing eyes to his father, eyes widening even further when he noticed the gun that John held in his hands.

"Dean will be all right son," John said in a soft, soothing voice. "I just … needed him out of the way while we talk." He explained in an almost calm and rational manner.

And if Sam didn't know any better, he'd swear that it was _his_ Dad standing before him wanting to talk, but something within the depths of John's dark eyes caused a cold, gnawing feeling of dread begin to grow within the pit of his stomach.

Something _bad_ was going to happen here. Sam could almost _sense_ it, but there was no way that Sam was leaving his older brother here, alone, defenceless, in the face of _this_ unpredictably, unstable John Winchester.

Sam would protect his brother this time, no matter what.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Warnings:** Harsh language, violence, some physical violence but nothing too graphic, thoughts of self-incrimination.

 **Author's Note:** Not quite sure where this one came from. Not even sure if I like it or not but … it is set just after The Darkness is released. I have no knowledge of spells or how to perform them, so I have just used my imagination.

Sorry guys, but this chapter was a … real pain in the butt for me. It didn't flow for me at all, which is why it took me a little longer to complete. Still not entirely sure about this whole concept of a story, but will keep plugging away at it for all of you guys who have shown interest in it so far. Your continued support is gratefully accepted by me and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Double apology for how long it has taken me to get this chapter up. Started a new job, plus moving house and waiting for the internet to connect has taken its toll, but here is the next chapter, hope you all enjoy.

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Kas3y Wayward-or-Awkward** **Pie Love Luci sichul14** and **kandilyn** for your review and your kind words. Because of you guys I have decided to post the next chapter. Fingers crossed that you guys like this. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time out to read this, your support means a lot, thanks.

 **UNFORGIVEN REMEDY**

 **CHAPTER FOUR**

Sam lay there, unmoving upon the library floor, unnaturally still and silent and Dean's renewed hope that Sam was regaining consciousness and coming back to him began to fade, deciding that the noise he had heard had just been his imagination, when out of the corner of his eyes, Dean saw Sam's fingers twitching upon his left hand.

"Sam?" Dean quickly raced to Sam's side. "Sammy? Are you coming back to me dude?"

A low keening noise seemed to emanate from his brother as both hands started to twitch spasmodically and Dean prayed that this was a good sign and meant that Sam was finally coming back to him.

"Come on Sammy, come back now little brother," Dean cajoled his sibling, the tension that had gripped his heart when Sam had first collapsed finally starting to ease up as Dean noticed more movement from his previously still and silent little brother.

Encouraged by Sam's sporadic movement, Dean placed a palm upon his brother's check to let him know that Dean was there. "It's okay bro, I'm here, you're safe," Dean whispered reassuringly, rubbing his thumb across his sibling's check. Dean almost pulled back in shock at how _cold_ Sam's check felt. Should Sam be this cold?

Frowning slightly in worry now, Dean moved his hand to his brother's forehead, feeling the same coolness he had felt upon Sam's check. Curious now, Dean placed his other hand upon Sam's chest – which should be warm considering that Dean had wrapped his brother up in a bundle of blankets – but the results were the same. Sam's body definitely felt cooler and Dean wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Probably not, knowing their luck.

Before Dean could do another quick check of his brother's vitals, Sam's back arched, a half-cry, half-moan of pain escaping Sam's lips – blue tinted lips, Dean now realized – before Sam's body began to jerk in all different directions at once convulsively.

Oh my God, what the hell was happening here?

Helplessly, Dean could only watch in horror as Sam's body convulsived violently for what felt like _hours_ but must have been only minutes before Sam's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he was still once more.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, suddenly terrified as he shakily checked for a pulse – _come on, still be alive, please don't be dead_ – before Dean breathed a sigh of relief at the slow steady beat he could feel beneath his fingers.

"Okay Sammy, you've had your fun. It's time for you to come home now little brother," Dean tried to use his gruff no nonsense tone, but because of the scare Dean had just been through, he knew his voice had an edge of desperation to it. "Before something horrible happens, before you can't come back … please Sammy, come back to me and I _swear_ that we will fix all of this together …"

And desperate was exactly how Dean was now feeling as he felt his brother's body cool down even further. Oh no, this was not good at all. Dean had to do something and he had to do it soon or else he feared that he would lose his brother forever.

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

"It won't be much of a family meeting without Dean, Dad." Sam said as he got to his feet and stood protectively in front of his unconscious, vulnerable older brother.

"True," John remarked, shrugging unconcerned. "But Dean … he didn't exactly like my idea too much … even when I explained to him that it was the only way to save you."

Sam's eyebrows rose at those words. "I thought you were done trying to save me Dad," Sam said quietly, deliberately keeping John's attention on him as he slowly moved away from his brother, John's gun tracking his movements; which is what Sam wanted.

If the gun was somehow fired, Sam wanted it as far away from his brother as he could get making it less likely for Dean to get hurt that way. "After that night in the barn … you told Dean that you were done trying to save me."

"Well, that is true." John paused to caress his rapidly growing beard. "But then I heard that you had developed _visions_ Sammy. Death visions of people about to die. And then I learned what the demon's true plans are for you Sammy."

Sam frowned, confused by his father's words. "You know what Azazel wants with me Dad?"

John's cavalier demeanour disappeared in an instant and before Sam had time to blink, John was in his face, gun cocked to Sam's temple, his hand closing around Sam's throat, fear and anger within his dark eyes now. "How the hell do you know what that monster's name is?" John demanded in an icy, cold venomous voice. "Have you been talking to him? _Conspiring_ with him all of this time? Have you all ready given into the darkness within you? Corrupted Dean and –"

"No! Of course not!" Sam denied loudly, irritated at his Dad's accusations. "How could you ever think that I would _conspire_ with the demon who killed Mum?"

Still, it wasn't too much of a stretch, considering that only years later Sam was conspiring with Ruby – a demon – not listening to his older brother's warnings about trusting a demon, trusting her …

John relaxed slightly, releasing his hold on Sam as he took a step back. "Of course, you wouldn't. Sorry Sammy, that was stupid of me to even think that." John's laughter sounded more forced than natural, causing Sam's level of concern to grow even further.

"It's fine Dad," Sam muttered distractedly, eyes watching John as he paced in front of Sam, seemingly nervous and on edge. "What did you want to talk about Dad?" Sam asked softly, not wanting to further agitate his father, hoping that he could somehow calm his father down.

"Have you been having _visions_ son?" John asked bluntly.

"Yes, I have," Sam admitted just as bluntly. "But we use them to _save_ people Dad, not hurt them." Sam hurried on to try and convince his father.

John shook his head, a disgusted, pitting look upon his features. "Doesn't matter son. These visions are _evil_. They're a … _gift_ from the demon who killed your mother. He wants to make you _evil_ Sam, turn you into a demon just like him."

Sam almost burst out laughing at the absurdity of John's statement before he realized that his Dad was being serious. "No Dad, he doesn't want to turn me into a demon …"

"I know it's hard to wrap your mind around it son," John interrupted Sam, eager to get Sam to believe him. "But these … _powers_ … they're _demonic_. They're from _him_. Believe me when I say that nothing good will come from use them.

When I heard about this, I tracked you boys down and hurried here as fast as I could because I'm going to try, one last time, to save you son."

Sam gulped, suddenly nervous, watching as John's movements became more erratic. "What do you mean Dad? How can you save me?"

John offered Sam a small, sad, trembling smile. "I'm sorry Sammy, I really am, but this … this is the way that I can save you." John raised his gun and before Sam had time to react, John had pulled the trigger, the gun's explosive retort ringing loudly in his ears.

Sam blinked, confused when he didn't feel any pain, John screaming Dean's name, causing Sam to become even more confused than before. But as Sam's eyes scanned the room, automatically looking for his older brother, realizing that Dean was no longer slumped in the seat, away from harm, but now he was lying at Sam's feet, blood pooling around him and everything clicked into place at once.

Instead of John shooting Sam, Dean had obviously flung himself into the line of fire and had gotten shot instead of Sam. Once again, Dean had saved Sam's life. But at what cost?

No! Dean!"

 **SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW**

"Fuck this shit!" Dean cursed under his breath, more terrified than he could remember feeling in a long time at the … fit … convulsion … that he had witnessed his brother go through mere minutes ago.

"I think it's time to do something drastic little brother," Dean stood to his feet and quickly retrieved the book – the fucking book that Sam thought would be able to fix all of their problems – and returned to his brother's side.

"Okay Sammy, let's see what this book's all about." Dean flipped the book to it's cover, his finger marking the page his brother had been obsessed with and paled when he read the title of the book.

This wasn't a spell book, it was a damn _curse_ book!

"Holy crap Sammy, what have you done?" Obviously, Sam had been too drunk to realize that this book wasn't the answer that would solve all of his … idiotic, perceived problems and would grant the wish that he desired; instead this book would do the exact _opposite_ of what Sam had intended. Which kind of made sense in a morbid kind of way because the other life that Sam had been … projected into seemed to be the worst-case scenario.

"Sonuvabitch!" Dean swore loudly after reading through the "spell" that Sam had unwittingly performed, reading the effects that casting this curse would cause to the person being cursed in the first place. "God damn it Sam, what have I told you about _always_ reading the fine print before you do something stupid?"

According to this book, the longer Sam stayed in that … parallel … alternate … universe, the more the curse would drain the energy from his mortal body until … until Sam died.

Dean swallowed hard, and not for the first time wishing that Bobby Singer was still alive. He'd know what to do – or he would find out how – to remove this curse and bring Sam back to him. But Dean didn't have the slightest clue _how_ to reverse it or _where_ he would start looking to try and break it.

"Damn it Sammy, you're the one that's good with all of this book smart stuff. What the hell am I supposed to do little brother?"

Dean flicked his eyes over to Sam, making sure that nothing had changed before he returned his attention back to the book, hoping that if he kept reading, the answers would suddenly appear as he forcefully fought down his terror and wild panic until he could figure out an answer to this whole mess that his younger brother had _deliberately_ gotten them involved with.

"Wait … what the hell is this?" Dean paused in his reading, after reading a couple of pages into this supposed _curse_ that Sam had unintentionally casted; now understanding _why_ Sam's wish had gone so haywire and why _that_ life was extremely bad.

Because Sam hadn't officially named _who_ he wanted to curse, the curse had turned back onto the person who had performed it. _This_ – where Sam was now – was the _worst_ possible outcome of what would have happened if Sam had never gone to Stanford.

And if Dean was reading this correctly, it was going to get a hell of a lot worse before this curse would ultimately claim Sam's life.

The way that Dean understood it, this curse would take away everyone that Sam had ever cared about and loved in his life before it sucked the life right out of him. Sam didn't have many people in his life who he cared about or loved, but what few people he did have … Dean could see that this curse was doing exactly what it was designed to do … leave the cursed person so alone, terrified and guilty that they eventually took their own life in this alternate world that the curse had created.

Oh shit!

Sam was all ready feeling emotionally vulnerable as it was, and Dean feared that it wouldn't take much to push his brother over the edge, to the point where Sam would kill himself in order to escape the pain he was in.

Sam had all ready lost the love of his life in this weirdo, bizzaro world as _that_ Jessica preferred women instead of men. Their Dad was a complete ass in this world, blaming Sam for everything bad that had ever happened in their lives, becoming so lost in his grief that he took it out on the person that he perceived to be at the centre of all of their problems, which was Sam.

Dean clicked his jaw back in anger at the images of his baby brother shackled, naked, suspended by chains, while their Dad _whipped_ Sam …

Dean knew that if Sam ever saw their Dad again in that fucked up world, it wouldn't be to reconcile and treat his youngest son with the respect that Sam deserved; no, Dean feared that if _this_ John ever showed up again, it would be for something terrible and completely unthinkable in Dean's eyes. It would be to kill Sam. And God, Dean hoped he was wrong here, because _his_ Dad would never think that killing Sam was an option … would he?

 _If you can't save Sammy Dean, you will have to kill him_ … John's voice echoed through Dean's mind as he recalled his father's last order to him before old yellow eyes had taken John's life in exchange for Dean's own life.

These words, even today, years later, after everything that had happened with the demon blood, Lucifer, Michael and the angels, caused a violent shudder of revolution to go through Dean.

Dean had tried to tell himself that if their Dad had lived, he _never_ would have resorted to killing Sam, even when it looked as if Sam was lost to them once Ruby had gotten her grubby little hooks into him, but Dean wasn't so sure of that conviction now.

After seeing how this _other_ John had treated Sam … was it really so hard to imagine that _his_ Dad would have no problem in putting down his youngest son in order to save the world, to stop the damned apocalypse?

Dean decided not to dwell on that thought for too long; deciding instead to concentrate on the here and now. Sam was in trouble and needed Dean's help now more than ever. Because once John was lost to Sam in the fucked-up reality Sam was living in, there would be only one more person left that Sam would have to lose before Sam would end his existence once and for all.

Dean would never turn on Sammy, he couldn't even think of a circumstance where he ever _would_ turn on his brother. But this _curse_ was designed to turn all of the people that Sam loved against him, and Dean had no doubt that in this weirdo world of Sam's that Dean _would_ turn on Sam. And once that happened, Dean feared that he may never be able to get Sam back at all … no matter how much he tried. So, the only solution was to solve this puzzle before it came to that.

A fierce, determined look crossed Dean's features before he picked up the book and continued to read. The answer was in here somewhere, Dean was sure of it. Now all he had to do was to find it and get his brother out of bizzaro world before Sam became the latest victim to this curse.

"Nahhh! Deeaannn!"

The sound of his little brother's traumatized, panicked, grief-stricken scream, pulled Dean's thoughts back to the present as he leaned over Sam, praying that Sam wasn't about to have another … convulsive episode, because Dean wasn't sure if he could survive another one of those in a hurry!

"Sammy, it's okay, you're okay, I'm right here, okay little brother? Everything's fine, I promise." Dean placed a calming hand upon the centre of his brother's chest and the next thing he knew, Dean was being bombarded by these strange image-memories – a sharp pain upon his upper left shoulder as he _remembered_ being shot by their father, protecting Sammy, because John _had_ come back and he had tried to do the unthinkable by killing Sam in a delusional effort to save Sam.

"Oh God, no," Dean whispered weakly, his worst fears becoming a reality as Dean closed his eyes in denial of these … _memories_ before more images began to invade his mind.

Dean saw himself lying upon the floor in a pool of his own blood; Sam's expression overcome with grief and rage as he confronted their father; Dean felt the hairs on his arms rise, an almost static charge in the air; John's dark eyes widening in horror and shock as the air suddenly seemed to be taken from him; John clawing at his neck, desperate for air; Sam's features twisted into a perverted, maniacal glee of satisfaction, his eyes pitch black as he took pleasure in using his new founded abilities to choke the life from John …

Oh, hell now! It was happening. Sam was about to lose their Dad – and at any other time, Dean might even have helped Sam to end that son of a bitch's life for all of the hurt and pain he had inflicted and bestowed upon his baby brother's shoulders. But in this bizzaro world, this was a bad thing – and at Sam's own hands.

If John died and was lost to Sam, that meant that it wouldn't be too long before Dean himself either abandoned or killed his little brother, almost fulfilling _curse's_ desire to completely destroy the person who had been cursed.

Dean could see the ripple effect this action – Sam killing John – would have in future events to come and none of those were good. Not good for either Dean or Sam.

"Sammy, don't do this," Dean pleaded, desperate to talk some sense into his brother's head. If he could somehow _stop_ Sam from taking this drastic course of action, then maybe he could buy his brother some time. Time in which Dean needed to come up with a plan in order to rescue Sam from bizzaro world, break the curse and return Sam to his rightful place by Dean's side.

"I'm alive. The other Dean … he's alive. But if you do this, it will ruin everything. Sammy …"

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

Sam crouched down next to his brother, reaching for his hand as Sam frantically searched for a pulse. "Come on Dean, don't do this to me," Sam begged, his voice cracking and breaking with emotion.

No! It wasn't supposed to turn out this way. This decision was supposed to make Dean's life easier, better … not get him killed!

Fury descended upon Sam as he raised his tear-filled eyes to his father. "You did this! You shot Dean!" he told John, hardly recognizing the low, pain, hate-filled tone of his voice that he now directed at John.

"It was … Dean wasn't supposed to … _you're_ the one that's supposed to be dead Sammy, not Dean." John's eyes narrowed sharply as he raised his gun against Sam once more. "You did this, didn't you Sam? You used your _powers_ to make me shoot Dean instead of you, didn't you?"

Sam was stunned into shocked silence. His Dad honestly thought that he would _deliberately_ put his brother in a situation where he could die, all so Sam's own life was spared?

Intense rage and a darkness Sam had never experienced before filled every corner of Sam's being as he stood up and faced his father's demented, crazy, wide-eyed expression.

" _Sammy, don't do this,"_ _his_ Dean pleaded. _"I'm alive. The other Dean … he's alive. But if you do this, it will ruin everything. Sammy …"_

Sam was beyond hearing reason now, the rage controlling every aspect of his being as he approached his father, unafraid of the gun that John waved in his direction, warning Sam to back off.

"You think I would ever use Dean as a human shield?" Sam demanded in a deadly tone of voice. "Do you honestly think that I could ever _hurt_ Dean? You're the one who came in here, waving a gun around, knocking Dean out in the first place. You're the one who pointed that gun in my face and pulled the God damned trigger. You're the one who killed Dean Dad, not me."

John backed away from Sam as Sam kept advancing, his body beginning to shake with fear, the gun wobbling widely within his hand before Sam batted it away with his own hand, an almost inhuman growl escaping him.

"You did this Dad, not me."

"Oh God Sammy, your eyes …" John's dark eyes widened with horror as his back hit the wall behind him. "Your eyes are turning black son. This is it, you're becoming a _demon_ …"

Sam paused to look back at Dean's unmoving body before he turned to glare at his father, not caring about anything this man had to say anymore. He'd shot and killed Dean. As far as Sam was concerned, John deserved to have the same thing happen to him as well. And since John was so damn scared of these powers … it was time Sam showed him what he could really do.

"Sam, look, Dean's alive," John gasped, relief clearly evident in his voice. "He's mov –"

John's words cut off abruptly, his eyes bulging out of his sockets as he gasped, trying to catch his breath, but there was no way Sam would ever let this son of a bitch breathe again. He'd killed Dean. And now … now Sam was going to kill him.

"Sam-my … st-oop … "

Distantly, Sam could hear a slurred voice that he recognized, urging him to stop, but Sam was too far into his rage, his grief, his blood boiling, crying out for vengeance as he effectively cut off John's air supply.

And before Sam could give it another thought, or before he was consciously aware of what he was doing, Sam heard the sound of bones breaking, a neck snapping as easily as you would snap a twig, an intense satisfaction and pleasure overwhelming him as he stared into his father's sightless, dead eyes.

"Oh God Sammy, what have you done?!"

 **SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW**

Sam wasn't sure how long he stood there, holding his father's dead body within his dark grip, smirking with pleasure, the feel of power flowing within him, causing him to feel ten times more invigorated than his strongest orgasm ever had; this power was intoxicating, and it wasn't until a shaky hand grabbed at his ankle that the euphoric feeling evaporated.

"Sam, did you kill Dad? With your _mind_?"

Sam glanced down, a smile of relief breaking upon his lips, because Dean was _alive_ , but it was gone an instant later when he saw the look of accusation and fear within his big brother's eyes.

Sam opened his mouth to offer Dean the excuse that Sam thought Dad had killed Dean and Sam had reacted on instinct, killing Dad in self-defence when John had aimed the gun at Sam's head, but Sam slammed his mouth shut, the after-effects of the rush that had filled him previously, crashed down around him and Sam was left feeling horrified and disgusted by his actions.

As much as Dean tried to carry on as if nothing had happened, trying to act like the big brother whose only job and interest was to look out for his pain-in-the-ass little brother, Sam could sense the wariness, revolution and fear within his brother every time Dean turned hard, accusing green eyes upon Sam, waiting for the day when Sam turned around and used those dark powers upon Dean.

Three months after Sam had killed their father, Sam woke up to find that Dean had left and had no intention of coming back. Dean had left a note, telling Sam that he no longer trusted Sam, to not come looking for him because as far as Dean was concerned, he no longer had a brother; the brother he'd raised had died the night Sam had killed John. And Dean felt like he was looking at a stranger, Sam's erratic mood swings and violent temperament becoming too much for Dean to handle.

Dean wasn't wrong. Sam _had_ changed the night he'd killed John using his powers, opening himself up to the darkness that resided within him. That power, as much as it horrified and scared the crap out of Sam, he was also dying to experience more of it and he'd soon found himself using it in little doses, trying to get the high he'd experienced that night he had finally let go and let it consume him; heart, body and mind.

But it was never enough to induce the feeling's he'd had, which led Sam to experience fluctuating mood swings and Sam honestly couldn't blame Dean for leaving.

Sometimes, on his darker days, Sam wished that Dean had killed him before he had left, but Dean was letting Sam live for now, but if Sam ever tried to find him or contact him, then Dean would have no problem in killing him.

Sam considered going to find Dean in the hopes that Dean would fulfil his promise and kill Sam, but Sam was reluctant to try that. What if his dark powers suddenly kicked on-line as some kind of self-defence mechanism and Sam ended up hurting Dean or … killing him? Sam would never be able to forgive himself if he killed Dean … even if it was purely by accident.

So, Sam left Dean alone and continued on his lonely path, trying to fight these newly awoken powers which Sam had inadvertently allowed loose once he had used them to kill John, trying to find some sort of purpose now that Dean – the only person he cared about in this world – had left him.

This spell that Sam had cast, this one thing he had changed in his life in order to fix all of the hurt he had caused his older brother through out the years, had only managed to hurt Dean in a whole other way.

Sam had failed. Things weren't better off at all, they were worse.

Sam didn't escape his evil destiny after all. If anything, he'd only made it approach faster. And when Sam released Lucifer from the cage – far earlier in this time-line – he hadn't held out long before he said yes to Lucifer – Dean responding by saying yes to Michael and the two brothers that had once loved each other above everyone and anything else now fought each other brutally, half of the planet being scorched before Michael triumphed over Lucifer and locked him back in the cage.

No!

Sam didn't want it to end this way. He was supposed to _fix_ things, not make them worse.

Oh God, if only he had changed something else in his life. He would wish not to exist, but that wouldn't solve anything. Instead … what would happen if Dean had never sold his soul for him and Sam had died at Cold Oak?

If Sam changed that one thing … surely it couldn't have any worse repercussions than this reality, right?

After all, nothing bad could happen to Dean if he was dead, right?

 **SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW**

"You sure you want to make another wish Sam?"

Sam frowned, the easily recognizable gruff voice bringing a fond smile to his lips. It had been so long since he had heard that voice and he couldn't help the nostalgic feeling the swept over him.

"Don't you think it's time you give up all of this "wishing" nonsense Sam?"

"What exactly do you think I should do Bobby?" Sam asked, turning to face the grumpy, gruff looking older man who had been more like a father to him than his own father ever had.

"Ah … the boy remembers my name." Bobby teased. "Funny how out of all the people in this … alternate world of yours, there was no mention of yours truly."

Sam opened his mouth to defend himself, but then shut it just as quickly when he realized that Bobby was right. Jessica, Dad and Dean had all made an appearance in Sam's "wish" – even the damn demon had been involved – but nowhere was this familiar, lovable, grouchy old man that Sam had loved like a father.

"Don't sweet it boy," Bobby said in an offhanded manner even as Sam was about to apologize for this oversight. "In this time-line, you had your Daddy to rely on so you and Dean had no reason to seek me out. Don't worry about it boy, I'm not offended."

"That's good." Sam smiled in relief. "Because you are a very important person in my life Bobby. And I can't … tell you how much you mean to me." Sam swallowed back the surge of emotion that had overcome him.

"There's no need to get all touchy-feely there boy," Bobby replied gruffly, but Sam could tell how much his words meant to Bobby. "You are one of my favourite Winchesters after all."

Sam couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Tell me what to do now Bobby. I tried to … this was supposed to be _better_ for Dean, but instead I've just made everything worse. Can I make another wish? Correct this mistake so that what I wish for Dean will actually happen?"

Bobby eyed Sam for a few seconds before he shook his head slowly. "No Sam, you can't." he said, his voice softening slightly.

"Oh." San hung his head, suddenly ashamed to realize that the one chance he'd had to make a better life for Dean had failed. This was obviously a one wish deal.

Why the hell couldn't he do anything right?

"But there is a way you can fix all of this. Make it so Dean doesn't have to worry about you anymore." Bobby said as he placed a consoling hand upon the young man's shoulder.

"What is it Bobby? I'll do _anything_." Sam implored, looking up at the old man hopefully.

Bobby smiled, holding out a gun toward the young man. "You can end all of this misery and pain Sam. Instead of make another wish, you can make it all better for your brother by doing the one thing Dean never had the strength to do. You can kill yourself and provide your brother with the first real peace that he's known in years. Let go Sam, this isn't the coward's way out; you are doing a noble thing. You'd be doing this _for_ Dean."

Hands shaking violently, Sam took the gun Bobby offered him into his own hands and stared at it as if in a morbid kind of fascination. Maybe Bobby was right. Maybe this was the answer Sam had been searching for all along.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Warnings:** Harsh language, violence, some physical violence but nothing too graphic, thoughts of self-incrimination.

 **Author's Note:** Not quite sure where this one came from. Not even sure if I like it or not but … it is set just after The Darkness is released. I have no knowledge of spells or how to perform them, so I have just used my imagination.

This whole story has been such a pain to write. And I apologize for how long it has taken me to complete another chapter. But don't fear, I will complete this story, no matter how long it takes!

Thanks for your continued support and understanding. It really means a lot to me.

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Kas3y,** **Pie Love Luci** and **kandilyn** for your review and your kind words. Because of you guys I have decided to post the next chapter. Fingers crossed that you guys like this. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time out to read this, your support means a lot, thanks.

 **UNFORGIVEN REMEDY**

 **CHAPTER FIVE**

No!

No, no, no, no!

Fuck, no!

Everything Dean had seen in Sam's bizzaro, weirdo world had come to pass. And now Sam was left alone, drowning, helpless and feeling hopeless because just like Dean had feared, the _other_ Dean had abandoned Sam, turned against the brother he had fought his every breath to protect, forgotten his one true job in this fucked up life; his job of watching out for and protecting Sammy.

He had forgotten … given up … and now Sam was in there, alone and Dean _knew_ it wouldn't be long before Sam was forced to take the only option left available to him … to kill himself to be free from the pain and guilt Dean knew would be dwelling within his younger brother's heart.

"No! God damn it!" Dean threw the book away in a fit of frustration and anger. He wasn't going to lose Sam like this. Sam had done whatever he could to free Dean from the Mark of Cain. He had broken the oldest curst known to man, even when he was told time and time again that it was impossible and he'd never be able to do it.

Sam hadn't given up. He had persevered through every obstacle that had come his way and he had eventually kept his promise to free Dean from the first curse, from the Mark of Cain.

And now that their roles were reversed and Sam needed saving from a curse, Dean was terrified that he would fail … fail his little brother who had looked up to Dean his whole life; the little brother who would forgive Dean, no matter what Dean had done or said, while Dean could never truly let go of the betrayals and lies like Sam had done; the little brother whose heart was so big, that he took it personally when they couldn't save _everyone_ from the evil beings that they hunted.

No! Failing Sam was _not_ an option, damn it!

Dean was not going to lose Sam like this, not when Dean had so much that he wanted to tell his baby brother, so much that he wanted to apologize for and make right.

Dean closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to keep back the panic that threatened to overwhelm and consume him. The thought of Sam not being around in this world any longer, causing a big gaping hole and pain within his heart that almost left him breathless.

No, he couldn't give up, wouldn't give up. There was no way that Dean would fail his little brother, not when Sam needed him now more than ever.

Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm his frantically beating heart, push his fear of losing his brother to the back of his mind, pushing back the panic and negativity that wanted to flood his heart and cause Dean to give up, give into despair.

Dean took another deep breath, his chaotic thoughts beginning to reform into a semblance of normality, refocusing his thoughts and energy into the here and now.

The most important thing Dean had to do right now was to _save_ his brother … yes, from the curse eventually, but right now, Dean had to save Sam from himself, stop Sam from killing himself before Dean had a chance to save him from the curse.

But how could he do that when it appeared as if Sam couldn't even hear him … especially since all of Dean's warnings and pleas had gone unheard, unnoticed.

But maybe they hadn't. If Dean could catch glimpses and images of Sam and his bizzaro world, then it would stand to reason that Sam _could_ hear and see things from Dean and the real time-line as well … right?

It was worth a shot. And, Dean supposed with a rueful shake of his head, there was no harm in trying, even if the idea seemed a little too farfetched and unorthodox. He was willing to try _anything_ that would help him to communicate with his brother, making him see the folly of his actions before kicking his lanky ass for blaming himself for _shit_ that should have been left in the past a long time ago. Shit, that didn't need to see the light of day again as far as Dean was concerned.

But Dean should have remembered that as much as Dean found it hard to forgive and forget some of Sam's past mistakes and actions; Sam would _never_ forgive himself for _any_ of his actions and mistakes. That damn kid would take all of that guilt and carry it with him for the rest of his life, always knowing that he had failed and let down his big brother by choosing a different path than the one Dean had always wanted for him.

Damn stupid kid … had he _forgotten_ that Dean had tried to _kill_ him not more than twenty-four hours ago?!

Sam wasn't the only one who had made some big mistakes in their lives. Dean had made a few of them himself. But this, Dean decided, letting his brother die here in the library of the Men of Letters bunker, was not going to be something Dean would regret or let happen. Because no matter, what it took … Dean would save that stupid kid's ass!

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

"You think I should kill myself Boddy?" Sam asked, his voice sounding hollow, feeling as though his mind was full of cotton wool, making it hard for Sam to concentrate on anything other than the enticing solution of just killing himself and ending it all.

It did have a … certain appeal to it. No more worry or stress about _how_ he would disappoint Dean the next time that he screwed up; no more feeling guilty about the path he had taken, even when he was warned against it years ago.

Maybe the John in this time-line had a valid point.

If Sam had died before meeting Ruby, he wouldn't have become addicted to demon blood, wouldn't have set Lucifer free, wouldn't have started the whole damn apocalypse, wouldn't have hurt and betrayed Dean so much that he had driven a wedge between them that had taken _years_ to overcome (and if he was being completely honest with himself, the betrayal Sam had caused, the wedge, it had never completely healed).

Even today, years after the incident had occurred, Sam could still see hurt and betrayal within his big brother's green eyes whenever Ruby's name was mentioned. And Sam hated that he could still cause his big brother, his hero, so much pain and suffering all because of _his_ stupidly, selfish actions.

Maybe this … killing himself was the only way Dean would ever truly be set free from the curse of Sam Winchester.

Sam _knew_ , in the depths of his heart, that he had been cursed from the moment Azazel had entered his nursery and killed his mother all of those years ago – maybe even before he was even conceived – and ever since that fateful night, his Dad and Dean had done everything in their power to protect Sam from all of the threats living a hunter's life would create, as well as the threat that Azazel and his demons posed to Sam and his family.

His Dad could have blamed Sam for Mary Winchester's death. He could have hated and despised Sam, thrown him out in the cold, left him behind with a hunter friend or Bobby … but John hadn't done any of those things. Instead, he had taken Sam with him, protected him and loved him, treating him no differently because of the curse Sam had placed upon his family.

"This is the right thing to do Sam," Bobby's soft voice jolted Sam back to the present.

"Yeah, maybe you're right," Sam mumbled, his voice wooden, free of emotion as his gaze when back to the gun in his hands.

The gun seemed to be speaking to him, telling him that everything would be okay once Sam used it and ended it all. And Sam was almost convinced, almost ready to eat a bullet for the sake of his brother, for freeing them both, but something in the back of his mind was screaming at him that this was wrong. It was a trick and the wish that Sam had casted had seemed to backfire in a most catastrophic way.

The gun continued to glimmer within Sam's hands, offering peace and salvation if only he had the courage to do what needed to be done.

And really, who would mourn his death? He had lost everyone in his life that he had ever loved or cared about. He had gotten good people killed because of his stubbornness and certainty that he was doing the right thing.

How many more people had to die before Sam ended the curse that was Sam Winchester forever?

 **SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW**

Shrugging away his apprehension, Dean slowly moved his hand to place upon his brother's forehead, both amused and horrified that the only option he had left to try and get through to his brother was _telepathically_. It may as well be magic, considering that Dean didn't even know if this would work or not.

Hand halfway to its destination and Dean felt himself freeze. What if Dean was too late and instead of saving his brother, he inadvertently saw his brother looking at him with sightless eyes, already dead, already beyond saving?

Images of Sam's lifeless eyes filled Dean's mind, vividly recalling the time Sam had died, while Dean held Sam in his arms, pleading with his brother to hold on, bargaining with an uncaring universe who thought it was a brilliant idea to leave Dean stranded in a world without his brother.

Yeah, right, as if Dean would _ever_ be okay in living in a world without his annoying pain the ass little brother!

Cold Oak still haunted Dean's dreams to this day, how in a blink of an eye, his brother was dead, gone beyond to where Dean couldn't save him; and Dean had felt his whole world come crashing down around him. He couldn't live with his brother dead then and he certainly couldn't live with his brother dead now.

Dean shook his head, his jaw set in stubborn determination, refusing to admit that he might be too late, he refused to acknowledge that his brother might have already breathed his last breath, having completed the full cycle of the curse by killing himself.

He refused to believe that he couldn't save his brother because he was Dean fucking Winchester and it was his damn job to protect and look after his little brother, no matter what he had to do to achieve that goal. He would achieve it and he would save his brother, whether Sam wanted saving or not.

Gritting his teeth together, his resolve and purpose strengthening within him, Dean placed the palm of his hand upon Sam's forehead, and couldn't help but gasp in shock at the _coldness_ of his brother's skin.

Frantic green eyes darted down to Sam's chest and Dean breathed a sigh of relief at the slow rising and falling of his brother's chest.

Sam was still alive and hanging in there.

"Hang on Sammy," Dean breathed, offering up a prayer of thanks to the same uncaring universe who had threatened and had taken Sam away from him multiple times in their lives. "I'm coming little brother, I'm coming."

Dean immediately noticed a change in Sam's bizzaro, weirdo world. The whole world – texture, colours and people – were gone and all that was left was a single bubble of light with two people in it.

Beyond the bubble was darkness, and Dean knew that this bubble of light was where the last fight for Sam's life would be held, where the last part of Sam's will to fight to keep living would be fought.

Dean was horrified to see a gun glimmering within his brother's hands, and the look upon Sam's face which meant that he was considering doing something really stupid. The look of concentration and resolve upon Sam's features, suggested to Dean that Sam was _seriously_ considering using the gun upon himself.

No!

Dean's mind screamed at him. Couldn't Sam see how _wrong_ this was? Couldn't he see that this was a _trick_? And who the hell was that standing before Sam, their words convincing Sam to use the gun, to end not only Sam's suffering, but Dean's as well?

Was it Ruby?

No, not Ruby. Ruby wouldn't be so polite about it. She would be blunt and to the point and would probably have taken it upon herself to just kill Sam and get on with it.

Slowly, as Dean began to become accustomed to these new images, he could vaguely make out a familiar figure and once Dean finally realized who this curse had used to try and convince Sam to kill himself, it caused Dean to become more furious than before.

Bobby.

How _dare_ this curse use the mentor and father figure of the Winchester brothers in such an abhorrent and horrendous way!

The real Bobby would _never_ concede to or try to convince Sam to kill himself. For Bobby, there was always another way. You couldn't redeem yourself or help anyone else if you were dead.

This act alone was enough to cause Dean's blood to boil, to make him see red, using their surrogate father, disgracing and dishonouring his memory was enough to cause Dean to want to hunt this fucker down and shoot it full of holes just on principal alone.

Dean's focus shifted to Sam as Sam raised his arm with the gun, a look of defeat upon his expression, and Dean felt his heart clench with pain and fear. This was it. Sam was really going to do this. Sam was about to shoot himself in the head and there was nothing Dean could do to stop him.

No!

"Sammy, please don't _do this_ …" Dean pleaded, his voice fill of pain and helplessness. "… _please_ …"

Dean felt the image shift as though Sam had actually _heard_ him and Dean's heart leapt with hope at the perplexed, confused expression that crossed Sam's face.

"Yes Sammy, hear me. This is _not_ what I want little brother. I don't want you dead. Please Sammy, fight!"

Anger now crossed the imposter Bobby's features, anger at not being able to achieve what it wanted so easily.

"That's right, you son of a bitch, Sam's a Winchester and we _never_ make things easy." Dean said smugly, a touch of pride within his voice because after everything Sam had gone through, it would be so easy for him to give up, give in and just … rest, but here he was still fighting, still wanting nothing more than to make Dean proud of him.

What his stupid pain in the ass little brother should realize and understand by now, was that Sam didn't _need_ to prove anything to him. Dean was already proud of Sammy and no matter what happened next, that would never change.

"Sammy, I don't know what to do man," Dean said, suddenly feeling a surge of desperation and panic flowing within him, because he wanted so badly to be there fighting alongside his brother; to be able to reach out and touch Sam, soothing him with a look or a touch, giving his brother the reassurance he would need in order to defeat this imposter once and for all.

"I don't know how to break this. I don't know how to save you. But don't worry little bro, I'll find a way to break this no matter what. I just need you to hang on dude. Don't give up on me, all right? Because you know that I can't do this without you, right?"

The words poured from Dean's heart and soul, his despair giving way to optimism and confidence once more because if Sam was still fighting and not giving up, then Dean sure as hell wouldn't give up either. There was a way to save Sam and Dean was going to find it, damn it.

It was Dean's turn to save Sam and this was one mission Dean was not about to fail.

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

"You don't have to be afraid Sam," Bobby continued, his soft voice sounding closer to Sam now, but Sam didn't look up. He couldn't look up, the gun capturing all of his attention, whispering encouragingly, enticingly to him.

It would be easy; quick. All he had to do was to put the gun to his temple and pull the trigger. Simple, quick and efficient and then all of this could be over once and for all. Everything would end and then Sam could finally rest and truly be free.

Yes, that was what Sam wanted. To be free; to not be weighed down by the guilt that he carried in his heart and on his soul.

"That's it Sam, you're doing the right thing. Dean would be proud of you son,"

Dean.

 _Hang on Sammy,_

Sam's arm paused in mid-air, his mind growing more puzzled and fuzzier by the second.

"What's wrong Sam? Why are you hesitating? Are you scared?"

"I don't know." Sam's arm that held the gun began to shake uncontrollably as he tried to move his arm, but it was as if an invisible force was holding it in place. "I can't move my arm." Sam muttered through gritted teeth.

"It's okay Sam," Bobby lay a comforting, reassuring hand upon Sam's shoulder. "You don't need to be scared, I'm here with you."

"I'm not scared." Sam stated, looking up at Bobby in annoyance. "I just can't move my arm."

Bobby chuckled, squeezing Sam's shoulder in a fatherly manner, although Sam could have sworn that he saw something dark pass through his father figure's eyes before it disappeared, leaving Sam to wonder if he had even seen it at all.

"Of course, you're scared son. Anyone in their right mind would be scared. But this is the only way you can truly set Dean free; the only way you can _save_ him."

Dean.

 _I'm coming little brother, I'm coming._

Again, Sam's sure movements paused, his shaking arm growing continually worse, his mind becoming more cloudy and confused than before. Is this really what Dean would want?

" _Sammy, please don't_ _ **do this**_ _…_ _ **please**_ _…"_ Sam could dimly hear _his_ Dean's voice in his mind, distorted, but still there; pleading, begging Sam not to do this.

"I don't know if Dean would want this Bobby," Sam began hesitantly. He knew this is what he had to do to truly save Dean, but he didn't want to cause Dean anymore pain and hurt. And what he could hear in _his_ Dean's voice right now was a lot of hurt, grief and desperation.

Sam had vowed to himself not to do anything that would cause his big brother any unnecessary pain, but now … if saving Dean was going to cause Dean sorrow grief or heartache … was it truly the right thing to do?

"What the hell are you talking about Sam?" Bobby said in disbelief as he placed both hands upon Sam's shoulders and started to shake him. "Of course, this is what Dean would want. Hell boy, don't you think Dean has had enough of saving your sorry ass over and over again? Are you really that selfish that you're not willing to set your brother free?" Bobby demanded, angry and disgusted with Sam now for his selfish actions.

Sam shook his head, suddenly confused once more. He knew that what Bobby was saying made sense. And it was the truth, but still, something held him back.

" _Sammy, I don't know what to do man," Dean's_ voice, sounding desperate, worried and haggard. _"I don't know how to break this. I don't know how to save you. But don't worry little bro, I'll find a way to break this no matter what. I just need you to hang on dude. Don't give up on me, all right? Because you know that I can't do this without you, right?"_

 **SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW**

Sam gasped, his mind suddenly clear, no longer fuzzy or cloudy as he looked upon the familiar face of the rugged old man that he had loved like a father. "I need to see Dean." Sam declared in a strong, confident voice.

"Dean?" Bobby's features twisted into puzzlement. "But … Dean's not here Sam. Why would you want Dean after he _turned_ on you … _abandoned_ you? I hate to tell you this son, but Dean … he doesn't _want_ you anymore. He's _tired_ of having to clean up your messes. He's _sick_ of you."

" _No Sammy, that's not true. Don't listen to that crap Sam, because_ _ **none**_ _of it is true."_ _His_ Dean's voice filled with indignant fury and anger, the sincerity within his tone, causing Sam to pause for a moment, _his_ Dean's voice becoming stronger within his mind.

A moment later, Sam shook his head in both anger and denial at the older hunter's words and accusations. "I know all of that Bobby. But the Dean that abandoned me, he wasn't _my_ Dean. And that's the Dean I need to talk to. That's the Dean that I need to see right now."

"Why are you looking at me like that Sam? It's not like _I_ can grant your wishes!" Bobby chuckled in amusement.

"But you can." Sam said, interrupting Bobby mid-chuckle.

"Excuse me? What the hell kind of fool notion have you got cooking up in that head of yours boy? You don't think that _I'm_ responsible for all of this, do you?"

Sam tilted his head to the side, examining Bobby with a critical eye. Something about this whole scenario – talking with Bobby – had seemed off, and now Sam knew what it was. Like everything else in this time-line, this Bobby was a fake.

This wasn't _his_ Bobby, the man that he had loved and respected. _His_ Bobby would _never_ want Sam to kill himself.

Even when Sam had become addicted to demon blood, been listening to Ruby's poisonous words, certain that he was on the righteous path and what he was doing was the right thing, even when Sam had set Lucifer free … Bobby had never once suggested that the only way out of that mess was to kill Sam or for Sam to kill himself.

Even while he was soulless, when Sam had tried to kill Bobby, Bobby had _never_ wanted Sam to die … and Bobby had good reason to want Sam dead then!

So, Sam knew with certainty that this Bobby standing before him was either a fake Bobby, or the being that had designed this alternate time-line in the first place, after Sam had made his wish.

"Yes, that is exactly what I'm thinking." Sam replied, everything becoming so clear now that he could have kicked himself for how he had become so trapped and muddled up in the first place.

Like an amateur, Sam had been blinded, he had been clouded by this … _thing's_ intoxicating words of reason and sanity, even when Sam knew on a basic, gut level that killing himself was never an option … had never been an option.

Sam had let out another evil force upon the world. He had to fix it, make it right before Sam could even think about how to make this right with Dean and himself. And Sam wasn't entirely convinced that he _deserved_ or had the right to die, to have that peace, to have the weight of guilt lifted from his soul.

Sam needed to make this right. And in order to do that, he had to live, suffer with his guilt and his wrong choices and save the world from the Darkness, which Sam had unwittingly released when he had saved Dean from the Mark of Cain.

Sam stood up straighter, surer of his thoughts and actions than he had been ever since he had come to this time-line.

"You're not _my_ Bobby." Sam declared with absolute certainty. "And it's become obvious to me that _you_ have created this alternate time-line, so _you_ have the power to bring Dean here or to send me back to my world … right?"

The not-Bobby lost all compassion within his features as he glared at Sam hatefully, not saying a word, his eye twitching barely concealed rage before he shook his head. "I can't do that Sam Winchester. I can not send you back, nor can I bring your brother here.

But … if Dean were to complete the … spell … maybe I could bring him here to your time-line instead of his own time-line." Not-Bobby smirked at Sam smugly, his lost composure once more restored as he saw the panic register within Sam's eyes at his unveiled threat.

Sam could _feel his_ Dean's interest double with not-Bobby's words and Sam _knew_ that Dean was considering doing the spell in a last-ditch effort to be with Sam, to save him from his fate.

"No!" Sam said sharply to both not-Bobby and _his_ Dean alike, his voice tinged with horror at the thought that _his_ Dean would be stuck in this fucked up reality and it would be all his fault … yet again.

"You leave Dean alone. This was _my_ choice, _my_ decision, Dean doesn't need to suffer for my mistakes again." Sam said, his tone softening slightly, hoping beyond hope that _his_ Dean could hear him and wouldn't make the same mistake that he had.

"But, let me ask you this," Sam whirled toward not-Bobby, stepping closer toward him, wanting nothing more than to punch the smug look from his face. "Are you willing to spend the rest of your existence running?"

Not-Bobby frowned slightly at Sam's words. "What do you mean? Are you trying to threaten me boy?" Bobby roared with laughter, knowing that while Sam was trapped in here, there wasn't a damn thing that this hunter could do to him.

"No, not me." Sam said, not fazed by not-Bobby's laughter. "Dean. Dean has spent his whole life looking after me, protecting me. Even when I disappointed him so much that he could barely stand to look at me or be in the same room as me, he has _always_ been there when I've been in trouble or I've needed him. _My_ Dean would never abandon me the way that _this_ Dean did."

" _Attaboy Sammy," his_ Dean's voice applauded proudly, becoming clearer within Sam's mind and not distorted like it had been earlier. _"Damn straight I would_ _ **never**_ _abandon you."_

"And if you keep me here or I die here …" Sam continued, his voice and conviction becoming stronger because the one thing that had never failed him was his belief in his big brother. "Dean _will_ find a way to gank your ass. He will never give up hunting you and you will spend the rest of your existence living in fear, waiting for the day when Dean Winchester will find you and kill you for good."

Not-Bobby looked at Sam intently for a long heart beat before he shook his head and shrugged off Sam's words. "Dean Winchester doesn't _scare_ me boy. He wouldn't even know _how_ to obtain any information on how to track me down. He's not exactly the brightest tool in the shed, is he?" Not-Bobby sneered, confident that he was safe from the would-be-assassin-hunter Dean Winchester while occupied within his own world.

But Sam knew his brother. He knew how smart and competent his big brother was. He also knew that Dean often down played his intelligence in order to throw people off. This … _thing_ was making the same mistake that all of the other evil beings Sam and Dean had fought over the years and won against. It was underestimating Dean. And that, Sam knew, would be _its_ down fall.

Sam almost felt sorry for the overconfident not-Bobby being standing before him, one hundred percent certain of his own brother's abilities to track this A-hole down and find a way to destroy it forever.

Sam wished he could be there to see it; to see the smug look upon not-Bobby's face vanish before Dean finished him off for good. But Sam knew that his time was limited. He knew that he was dying and he didn't have much time left.

All that Sam wanted now as to be able to speak to his brother – his _real_ brother – for whatever time he had left; to explain to Dean why he had done this and to apologize for leaving Dean with yet another Sam Winchester mess to clean up because he had released the Darkness.

"Let me talk to Dean and maybe … he _might_ go easy on you when he comes to destroy you."

Not-Bobby bristled at Sam's allegations. "I'm not scared of Dean Winchester!" he said in a dismissive manner.

"You should be." Sam replied, deadly serious, seeing the first twinges of worry within not-Bobby's eyes. He didn't want to admit it, but Sam could see that this being was starting to be unsettled by Sam's words, his unwavering loyalty and conviction that his brother would never give up until he had Sam back or he had tracked this son of a bitch down and destroyed him forever.

A few seconds later not-Bobby's eyes clouded over with a darkness and rage that Sam had only seen once in his life, and that had been within Lucifer's eyes, in the cage, when he had come to the realization that he had been bested by hunters … the Winchesters … mere _mortals_ …

Sam swallowed hard, vividly recalling the retribution he had received after that look had surfaced within Lucifer's eyes and Sam honestly didn't want to face even a _fraction_ of that retribution again.

He couldn't help the wild panic that filled him, not-Bobby striding toward with purpose. Sam wanted to stand his ground, stand up straighter, stand up strong and proud like a Winchester should, but his fear overwhelmed him, his cowardice consumed him and Sam found himself backing away from not-Bobby, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps, his flight or fight responses kicking in.

Usually Sam would fight. He would face whatever trouble, danger or evil being that stood in his way, but after that look – that look that had caused Sam so many punishments he had endured in the cage at the hands of Lucifer – it caused Sam's hunter instincts to be overridden and Sam was scrambling to _flee_ this being. As shameful as that was, Sam's first instinct was to run away like some terrified child or a coward.

Sam tried to side-step out of not-Bobby's way, but before Sam could move, not-Bobby grabbed the front of Sam's shirt and lifted him off his feet, one handed and threw him to the ground, causing the air in Sam's lungs to come out of him in a sudden rush.

"You are not getting out of here Sam Winchester. The sooner you realize that, the better off you will be." Not-Bobby stood over Sam and Sam shrunk back at the power he could feel emanating from this being.

"You have two options here boy. One; you do nothing, we stand here and argue all day about how great you _think_ Dean Winchester is, your body in the real world suffering a horrible, agonizing death, which you will feel in this reality by the way." Not-Bobby smirked evilly.

"Or two; you take the gun that I gave you, point it to your head, pull the trigger and blow your God damned brains out, ending your sorry excuse of a life. But either way, you are _not_ getting out of here alive. The choice is yours boy. Die in excruciating agony or die swiftly and quickly. What do you choose boy?"

"You forgot option three asshole, where his awesome big brother arrives to kick your ass and save the day."

Dean?!

Sam whipped his head around not-Bobby to see Dean standing there, wholly and in the flesh, a murderous look within familiar green eyes as not-Bobby turned to stare at Dean in bewilderment.

"But … you can't be here. How are you _here_?'' he spluttered.

The familiar smirk that Sam knew so well crossed Dean's lips, his green eyes hardening, shrugging nonchalantly. "I don't know and I don't really care. Now, step away from my brother you son of a bitch, or so help me, I _will_ make you bleed and regret the day you decided to fuck with the Winchesters!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Warnings:** Harsh language, violence, some physical violence but nothing too graphic, thoughts of self-incrimination.

 **Author's Note:** Not quite sure where this one came from. Not even sure if I like it or not but … it is set just after The Darkness is released. I have no knowledge of spells or how to perform them, so I have just used my imagination.

This was another hard chapter for me to write, and I apologize for all of the Dean parts ... but, had to have those in order for you to see how Dean made it into Sam's bizzaro world.

Also, a little couple of hints for you to see if you've picked up on who the bad guy is.

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Kas3y,** **Pie Love Luci** and **AlxM** for your review and your kind words. Fingers crossed that you guys like this. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time out to read this, your support means a lot, thanks.

 **UNFORGIVEN REMEDY**

 **CHAPTER SIX**

Dean had to break physical contact with his brother in order to retrieve the curse book that he had thrown half-way across the room in a fit of rage and frustration.

But he didn't want to leave Sam, didn't want to break that physical connection with his brother, knowing how volatile things were getting in Sam's bizzaro, weirdo world.

It was do or die time. And Dean wanted to be connected with his brother, however it played out, for as long as he could before the ultimate decision of Sam's life would be decided.

Not only was Sam fighting a mental battle with the Bobby imposter in bizzaro land, but Sam's physical body was getting worse by the second. His breaths were coming out in laboured gasps, his skin cooling to such a degree that Dean had to place a hand upon Sam's chest to feel it rising and falling in order to reassure himself that Sam was still alive.

He was still here, and fighting hard.

Dean was only gone for thirty seconds tops, but once he resettled himself beside Sam, sitting cross-legged, the damn stupid curse book – which Dean was going to have great pleasure in salting and burning once this whole thing was over and done with – within his hands and Dean could tell by the pain lines caressing his brother's features that Sam was declining far more rapidly than Dean had anticipated.

"Hang on Sammy," Dean muttered under his breath, his heat beating wildly within his chest in fear as he flipped through the pages of the curse book, hoping, _praying_ that there was something in here that could help his brother, something that he had missed earlier, something that would help him get his brother back as he re-established the physical and psychic link with his brother by placing a hand upon Sam's cool forehead, unconsciously rubbing his thumb across his brother's brow, not only as a soothing gesture but also to generate some heat upon Sam's rapidly cooling body.

"I know baby brother, it's okay, I've got you." Dean automatically soothed when Sam let out a small whimper. "Everything's gonna be fine soon Sammy. Just hold on for a little bit longer." Dean murmured reassuringly, his attention split into three different directions at once; the book, the mental link with Sam in bizzaro world, and the physical body of Sam in the real world, which was beginning to show obvious signs of distress now.

Sam's body, which was previously so still that it had scared Dean more than he'd cared to admit, now started to move spasmatically, deep lines of anguished pain creasing Sam's features, beads of sweat upon Sam's cool body – which did _nothing_ to heat the kid up – gasps and moans of pain erupting from his brother's mouth, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, his head moving from side to side, trying to escape the assaulting pain that now invaded his body.

"Ssh, it's okay Sammy, you're okay," Dean repeated nonsense soothing words that could do nothing to take the pain away from his little brother, but Dean hoped that the sound of his voice would bring a little comfort to his pain wrecked sibling's body.

"I'm going to make all of this go away Sam, I promise. I just need a little more time here, okay? Don't quit on me yet baby brother. And once you're back here, safe and sound, I am definitely kicking your ass for pulling this stunt."

Dean told him, but there was no heat in his words, no anger in his tone, only the soft, concerned, worried big brother tone that he hadn't used in … God, it had to be _years_ since Dean had felt this helpless, this afraid, this terrified and incompetent, not knowing what to do, not having all of the answers to work out this particular predicament that the brothers now found themselves in.

Dean could recall only feeling like this a few times in his life … when Sam had been snatched by the redneck Benders, being one of them. Feeling Sam slip away from him as Ruby corrupted his brother further and further until Dean didn't even know if that was _his brother_ anymore, was another. Watching Sammy jumping into the pit, knowing that he would never see Sam again, knowing the torture Sam would suffer at the hands of Lucifer and knowing there wasn't a damn thing that he could do about it!

And then, lastly and most recently, there was the church fiasco where Dean didn't know if his words were having any effect on Sam what so ever. He hadn't known if he could stop Sam from completing the trials, from killing himself in the process.

Feeling helpless and not knowing what to do next was a feeling that Dean Winchester was not used to, nor did he appreciate it when, on the rare occasion, this feeling of helplessness and uncertainty would consume him, invading his mind, heart and soul, making it so damn hard for Dean to think straight or logically, because all he really felt was fear, anguish and hopelessness.

But that was exactly how he was feeling at the moment, because nothing in this God damned book was shedding any light on how Dean could get to Sam or break this damn freakin' curse!

Dean's outwardly calm demeanour was starting to crumble, Dean's hopelessness and helplessness beginning to turn into frustration, another tantrum beginning to bloom and grow within Dean.

But before Dean could strike out again, wanting to destroy everything in sight because he didn't know what to do here … his attention was diverted to the mental link that he shared with Sam, hearing imposter Bobby tell Sam that Dean didn't want Sam anymore; that Dean was tired of having to clean up Sam's messes; and worst of all, that Dean was sick of Sam.

"No Sammy," Dean gasped, shocked and appalled at Bobby's cruel and heartless words. But what made it worse was the weary resignation that crossed Sam's features, as if the kid had already suspected that something like that was the truth.

"That's not true." Dean denied vehemently, praying that the sincerity of his words reached Sam and he _believed_ that Dean was telling the truth. "Don't listen to that crap Sam, because _none_ of it is true. Do you hear me little brother? None of what that son of a bitch is saying is the truth."

Stupid, idiot kid thought that was the truth. Thought that was how Dean really felt about him; Dean could tell by the look within those sad puppy-dog hazel eyes and the weariness that Sam tried to hide by hiding his eyes behind his bangs of hair. But Dean had seen it. That look of abject misery; that look of a man who was so tired of living that they didn't know if they had the strength to continue.

Dean should know that look because he'd seen it upon his own face numerous times; when he'd come back from hell; the whole Ruby and demon blood thing; when he'd thrown away the amulet, so disappointed and disheartened by their visit to heaven to realize that Dean didn't mean anything to Sam at all.

After everything Dean had sacrificed for that kid, given up, loved and protected with his whole being and Sam's heaven … the best moments of his life was when he was on his own or with someone else's family other than his own family.

Dean had lost his faith, his _belief_ in Sammy, his green eyes deadened, defeated and Dean had wondered what it was all for. Why the hell was he continuing when his reason for living; the person he had revolved his whole life around; the same person that he couldn't live with dead, when it was obvious that Sam did a hell of a lot better without him around?

Except Sam didn't. He didn't do better. He wasn't happier without Dean. And it was only now, after seeing how much suffering and anguish Sam was in because he _thought_ Dean was disappointed in him, he _thought_ that Dean found him repulsive, disgusting, hated and despised him, that Dean finally understood, after all of these years, that Sam couldn't live without Dean either, that Sam would _do_ whatever it took to keep Dean by his side.

God, how had he been so blind? So conceited and self-centred that he had failed to _see_ the truth?

Dean's only excuse for that was that he had been so overwhelmed and consumed by his own hurt, by the perceived betrayal of the one person who meant _everything_ to him, that he was easily manipulated into thinking, believing that he meant nothing to Sam, that he couldn't see the truth beyond the hurt and deception.

Only now did Dean fully realize the extent of his actions and how they had caused that hopeless, deadened look to enter his brother's normally expressive hazel eyes; how his thoughtless words had scarred his baby brother so much that Sam was willing to put up with beatings from their own father if that meant Dean's happiness.

"Sonuvabitch," Dean growled, tears prickling in the corner of his eyes, so disgusted, ashamed and appalled to think that _he_ had contributed to his brother's low self-esteem and low self-opinion of himself.

Dean clenched his fists, his teeth gritting together in sudden determination as he silently vowed to make this right. He would make Sam see … make him _understand_ that he wasn't worthless and he deserved a chance to be happy.

Sammy was the one who had pulled Dean back from the dark abyss of drowning within his own self-incriminating thoughts and emotions – even though Sam's actions was sometimes the cause of the way Dean felt – and now it would be time for Dean to do the same with Sammy.

But first thing was first. How the hell did he get into Sam's bizzaro, weirdo world and help Sam destroy this Bobby imposter once and for all?

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

Hmm, now that was interesting. Imposter Bobby had basically assured Sam that Dean could be with Sam in his bizzaro world if only Dean would complete the "spell" himself.

Dean glanced at the curse book, his eyes quickly scanning the ingredients necessary before he looked over to the table Sam had been at earlier, taking quick stock of the ingredients that still rested upon the table and others that he would need to replenish in order to cast the curse.

Maybe this was the answer Dean had been searching for. Complete the curse, be with Sam in his twisted fucked-up bizzaro world while the _both_ of them took on imposter Bobby together and then … what?

What would happen when the two of them won against the imposter? Would they be returned to their own bodies in the real time-line? Or would they get hurled into another "wish" – Dean's wish this time – and have to suffer through another horrendous existence, watching the people that they loved turn on them until they couldn't take it any longer and ended their own lives?

Dean shook his head at those morbid thoughts. No. There had to be a way that Dean could use it to his advantage. The reason _why_ Sam's wish had gone so hay-wire – so wrong – was because Sam hadn't named the person he wanted to curse and it had turned back onto Sam.

What if Dean named the person he wanted to curse? What if he _cursed_ this Bobby imposter … would that give them an upper edge to defeat it? Or would Dean stay trapped in this real time-line while the imposter was hurled into his own cursed world and Sammy was left in his bizzaro world, left to rot and die in excrutating agony?

The risks in performing this curse were great and numerous, the unknown elements making it dangerous as hell. And normally he wouldn't even consider this an option – performing the curse himself when there was so many unknown elements at play – but this was Sammy.

And Dean couldn't leave him to rot in that weirdo world by himself. He couldn't stand by and watch his brother die right before his very eyes without doing a damn thing to stop it.

That wasn't the Dean Winchester way of doing things. And this was _Sam_ ; his baby brother that he had sworn to protect with his own life if it came down to it. What kind of big brother would he be if he did nothing and let his brother die?

 _Close your eyes Sammy …_

Dean closed his eyes, the guilt crashing down upon him in waves. He had tried to _kill_ his brother not more than twenty-four hours ago. He had let the mark manipulate and warp his big brother instincts, his duties, but now … even though it wouldn't lessen the guilt of his actions one tiny bit, Dean was determined to save his brother, no matter what he had to do to achieve it.

Decision made, Dean started to stand in order to regather and restock ingredients he would need in order to complete the curse and be by his brother's side, when he heard Sam's sharp retort of "No!", and Dean instinctively knew that Sam was telling him _not_ to do the curse as well as denying imposter Bobby's words.

Sammy didn't want him to do the curse. He didn't want Dean to be stuck … trapped there like he was.

Well, fuck. Now what the hell was Dean supposed to do?

Cas wasn't answering any of his calls or his prayers. And everyone that _could_ have helped them were long dead.

This was the only viable option Dean had left. He wasn't going to leave his brother alone to perish in that fucked-up reality where nothing but _bad_ shit had befallen his soft-hearted kid brother. And he definitely wasn't going to stand by and watch his brother die while doing nothing to stop it. There was no way that was happening. Not on Dean's watch.

So, that left one option available to Dean. And sure, it was a shitty option, and the way that Dean figured it would work – _wanted_ it to work – had a _slim_ chance of working, but Dean was desperate. And this was all he had left to do; it was all he _could_ do to help his brother.

"I'm sorry Sammy," Dean whispered, placing his forehead against Sam's cooler forehead for a minute, hoping his brother would understand _why_ Dean had to do this, _praying_ that Sam could forgive him.

"But I have to do this. I have to save you this time. I have to make this right. And the only way I can even _start_ to make this right is to be by your side and to help you take down this Bobby imposter. Please _understand_ Sammy, and if you can … forgive me for what I'm about to do …"

Dean ran his thumb across his brother's brow in an act of love and affection before he pulled back and –

" _Are you willing to spend the rest of your existence running?"_ Sam's voice, filled with absolute love and conviction pulled Dean back into bizzaro world, the Bobby imposter sneering at the obvious threat that Sam had just delivered.

" _No, not me."_ Sam corrected. _"Dean. Dean has spent his whole life looking after me, protecting me. Even when I disappointed him so much that he could barely stand to look at me, he has_ _ **always**_ _been there when I've been in trouble or I needed him._ _ **My**_ _Dean would never abandon me the way that_ _ **this**_ _Dean did."_

The love, faith and conviction within the kid's voice as he stood strong, facing up to a monster he had no idea of how _it_ would react to Sam's defiance, standing up and defending his brother to this monster who knew _nothing_ of the bond the two brothers shared, caused Dean's heart to swell and fill with love and pride so great that he thought his heart would burst.

"Attaboy Sammy, damn straight I would _never_ abandon you." Dean said proudly, swallowing over the lump of emotion that had lodged in his throat.

After everything this kid had been through, after every hurtful and malicious comment Dean had ever spat out at Sam in an effort to bring his little brother back from the brink of darkness because he was scared to lose the brother that he knew and loved with a passion … Sam still held so much faith and belief in Dean that it astounded the older hunter to the core of his being.

How was it, that the little brother he had given up on time and time again could still have so much blind confidence and devotion to him? How was it that Sam could still _believe_ that after Dean had tried to kill him, was a complete and utter mystery to Dean.

But Dean could tell that Sam believed every word that he was saying to imposter Bobby, because although the kid's voice was strong with conviction and confidence, Dean could hear the slight cracks of emotion within Sam's voice that no one else would be able to pick up on because they didn't know this kid like Dean did, and when Sam's voice cracked with emotion like that, it meant that Sam truly believed in what he was saying right down to the core of his being.

Sam … his Sammy still believed in him … with an unconditional love and blind obedience which caused Dean's heart and soul to thump in pride and relief that almost reduced the older hunter to an emotional quivering mess.

Humble. That's how Dean felt right this second. He was humbled, awed and pleased with the amount of faith and belief that his baby brother still had in him.

And Dean knew, with an absolute conviction of his own, that the only way he could repay his younger brother's unwavering, undying loyalty and trust was to get Sam out of bizzaro world and bring him back safely to the real world.

The images within Sam's bizzaro world began to move out of time, speeding up, as it had done ever since Sam had been transported to this fucked-up reality and Dean _knew_ that he was seeing events unfolding that had yet to happen.

Dean saw imposter Bobby's eyes darken with an intense darkness and rage which caused the younger Winchester's eyes to widen, bulging out in terror, obviously seeing something within those eyes which caused him to react in fear, his complexion losing all colour as he tried to back away, tried to run, tried to escape.

Sam was no coward. He would face whatever threat was in front of him – no matter how banged up his was – and kick it in the ass … hell, the kid had taken on a _hell hound_ to protect him … so the fact that Sam was trying to get away, that he was so terrified out of his mind that his whole body was literally shaking to the point that Dean feared the kid would cause himself more harm, proved to Dean that Sam _felt_ his life was in danger.

Dean automatically felt his big brother instincts flaring into over protective big brother mode. Because if the kid looked this damn vulnerable and this damn terrified to the point where he was on the verge of a rare panic attack, then Dean knew he needed to act. And he needed to act now!

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

Fuck, this was bad.

Sam was in trouble and Dean could do _nothing_ to stop it. Except, maybe completing the curse. If Dean didn't hurry up and _do_ something, Sammy was going to die. And after what Dean had seen … Dean knew that Sam didn't have must time left at all.

"C'mon Cas, I could really use your help right about now." Dean pleaded for what must have been the hundredth time tonight. "Cas … this is _Sam_ and he needs your help.

Bobby … Dad … anyone? Haven't we _done_ enough to save this world? Don't you think you guys _owe_ us a favour or two? How about someone help us out for a change?"

Dean's desperate tone turned harsh and bitter, knowing that this universe, this _world_ that they had saved countless times in the past would do nothing to help Dean now.

If God was around … He didn't give a _shit_ about Dean Winchester or his problems even though the Winchester siblings had fought tooth and nail, sacrificing themselves numerous times in order to keep the world that God created, safe and free from danger.

Without knowing exactly why, Dean's thoughts suddenly turned to his Dad. Of all of the people that Dean and Sam had known, loved and trusted over the years, who had gotten killed because of the Winchesters crusades and John's obsession to find the yellow-eyed demon who had destroyed their lives all of those years ago, Dean figured that their Dad owed them the most … owed _him_ the most.

Dean had followed the old man's orders – no matter how ridiculous or crazy they were – strived to be the perfect son, the perfect solider, striving to be _worthy_ in his father's eyes; hoping for the day when John would finally _see_ him and acknowledge Dean for all of the good he'd done; for everything Dean had given up in order to be there for his Dad, to raise his little brother, to train, to fight, to prepare for a fight that was passed down to them because of their father's single-minded obsession in tracking down the demon who had killed his wife, his boys' mother and destroying that son of a bitch for good.

But Dean had _never_ seen or experienced that acknowledgement from John; John just expecting Dean to toe the line and obey without compliant. And Dean had … for most of it. He had obeyed _every_ instruction and order his father had given him, except … except when it came to Sammy.

Dean wouldn't fight for himself – because he figured he was already doomed to lead this life-style as hunter anyway – but he sure as hell would fight for his brother. Even if that meant going up against John Winchester in order to achieve it.

"I did everything you ever asked of me Dad. I protected Sammy to the best of my ability. I even gave up my soul for him. But all I got in return … your last words to me was that I _might_ have to _kill_ my baby brother in order to save him."

Dean's throat choked up on emotion as he swallowed convulsively to try to get his emotions – that was so very close to the surface now – under some kind of control, knowing that he was more likely to lose his composure when Sammy was involved and in trouble and he was desperate.

"I have _never_ forgiven you for that." Dean continued, angry now. "Because that … that seed of doubt that you put in my head about my brother possibly turning evil, was the first instance, in a long line of instances that finally came between me and Sam to the point where … I felt I couldn't trust him anymore, that I didn't know who he was anymore.

But _you_ put that there, you son of a bitch. You made me doubt Sammy, which meant that the angels could get in and mess with my head, making me say and do horrible things …"

Dean lowered his head, deep regret and remorse now consuming him instead of anger. "I … I keep thinking about that _other_ John and the lengths that _he_ went through in order to do what _he_ thought was "saving" Sam. Beating him and trying to kill … I have to believe that _you_ wouldn't have killed Sam; that killing him was the furthest thing from your mind.

I used to believe that. Know it for a fact that you would _never_ do anything to purposely hurt me or Sam, but now … now I'm not so sure.

I have never asked you for a thing in my whole life, but I'm asking you … begging you … please help me save Sammy. Because he's _not_ evil Dad. He never was. And if you can't see that now, after _everything_ he's done and sacrificed in order to save this world, save me, then I really didn't know as well as I thought I did."

Silent tears fell from the older Winchester's eyes, so desperate now that he didn't care how needy and whiny he sounded. He _needed_ to save Sam. And he would sink to any level to achieve that.

"Please Dad, if you can … help me help Sammy. Help us … your sons." Dean took a deep breath, intending to say more, wanting to get this weight lifted from his soul at the life-style his father had brought him up in, but knowing that it wouldn't do any good.

It was pointless and redundant, and a waste of precious time that he didn't have any more to waste. Dean had poured his heart out. And if that didn't convince anyone to help them … then nothing else would.

Well, if no one was going to help him, then he would just have to help himself, like he'd always done for his whole damn life.

Dean's expression hardened as he left his brother's side in order to gather the ingredients he would need in order to complete the curse, shaking his head at his own foolishness. Who the hell was he kidding? Nobody cared about him or Sam. They were just tools to be used, manipulated and –

A sudden white, blinding light surrounded Dean and before Dean could blink, cry out in surprise or even register what the hell was happening, Dean found himself in Sam's bizzaro world, the imposter Bobby towering over his terrified younger brother.

Dean swallowed back his questions of how he had gotten here – only grateful that he was here, finally – and reacted how he always did when Sam was in trouble. He diverted the bad guys attention onto himself, hoping to keep his brother alive for the next few minutes while Dean could think up a cunning plan in order to get them out of this dangerous situation, alive and in one piece.

Dean was here; with Sam. Now all he needed to do was to find a way to defeat this imposter and get back to the world that the two of them belonged in.

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

Sam looked at Dean through the curtain of bangs his longish hair provided for him, eyes wide with astonishment and disbelief, his mouth open in stunned shock, not wanting to blink in case the image of _his_ Dean, his brother – green eyes narrowing with wild big brother protective fury as he locked eyes with Not-Bobby – disappeared like the mirage or hallucination Sam half-expected it to be.

Sam's heart beat rapidly in his chest, his breaths fast and shallow, the panic attack he'd been on the verge of falling into earlier at _that_ look upon Not-Bobby's face, easing up and almost disappearing completely at the sudden arrival of his older brother.

Sam held his breath as Not-Bobby turned to face Dean and Sam could easily see the hateful sneer that twisted upon Not-Bobby's lips as Sam managed to take a couple of small, inconspicuous steps to his left, to keep both Dean and Not-Bobby in his sights.

There was no way Sam was going to allow Dean to face this threat by himself – even if Dean was just a very vivid hallucination – especially since Sam was the one who had brought this down upon himself.

Dean would _not_ be paying for another one of Sam's epic screw-ups, even if he wasn't real, and Sam could feel his legs shaking slightly, the left-over effects of the terror he'd felt earlier.

"Dean Winchester," Not-Bobby spat out, his voice seething with barely concealed rage and fury. "You are always such a party pooper, aren't you? Swooping in at the last minute to save the Damsel in Distress." Not-Bobby motioned to Sam, rolling his eyes sarcastically in a dramatic display of disdain and disgust.

Sam could feel the blush heat his checks, shame and embarrassment rolling within him at the condescending, scathing tone that Not-Bobby now adopted; his eyes dropping slightly as he recalled the countless times he had put Dean's life in danger all because he was foolish enough to get taken by the very thing they were hunting.

"Not allowing me to finish the delightful and always ever entertaining game of toying with your baby bro's precocious little emotions and his vulnerable little mind … toying with him and explaining in _very_ vivid detail that if he doesn't co-operate and _play his role_ correctly, all of the different and imaginative ways I could torture and make his big bro suffer because of his refusal to play the game that I had orchestrated with the sole purpose of bending little Sammy to my will. To break him, to see that damn wounded puppy-dog expression that Sam Winchester is famous for. Waiting like the Damsel in Distress that he is for his big brother to swoop in and save the day."

Wow.

That stung.

Sam bit down hard upon his bottom lip to keep the sting of tears that suddenly appeared within his lowered eyes from falling, but couldn't deny the truth of Not-Bobby's words, refusing to look up, too afraid that he would see a look of disgust upon his beloved big brother's face – much like the look he'd seen on _this_ Dean's face right after Sam had killed John and Dean realized that Sam had killed John _with his mind_ – at how weak and pathetic Sam really was.

All Sam seemed to be doing lately was dragging his brother down, repeating the same mistakes that he should have learned from the first time he made them.

"Really Dean, aren't you _tired_ of having to clean up after your little brother all of the time?" Not-Bobby continued in that same condescending tone as if Sam was merely a bug that should be squashed and put out of his misery.

"Aren't you _sick_ of always having to look out for him, protecting him from not only the monsters, but from himself as well?"

God, Sam was so pathetic. So needy for attention and to prove that he was right, that he was constantly putting his brother's life in danger, constantly being taken, used and exploited because _everyone_ knew that there wasn't anything Dean Winchester wouldn't do for his younger brother.

And since the younger Winchester was always so easy to capture … that gave the advantage to the villain of the week who now had the opportunity to bargain with and get away with whatever they wanted because they had Dean Winchester's Achille's heel, his weakness, his little brother whom Dean was honour and duty-bound to protect and look after because their Dad had ordered and demanded that response from Dean, brainwashed it into Dean until it became hard wired and …

He was going to get Dean _killed_ one day; Sam realized with sudden clarity, a violent shudder of horror and revolution running through the length of his body at that revelation.

Damn it. Where the hell was that gun?

Maybe if he ended it now he could save Dean from having to go through the honour-bound and duty-bond pretences of having to protect a little brother that had been brainwashing into him all of those years ago.

Maybe Sam could save Dean the trouble of _pretending_ to care, _pretending_ to give a shit about him when it was startling obvious now that all Dean was doing was following orders and being the perfect little solider their father had always wanted him to be.

Sam _had_ caused this mess after all. And Dean _had_ to come and save his ass yet again, because Sam had been so eager to prove his worthiness, to prove that he had something more to offer his big brother other than screwing-up and needing to be protected and saved, that he had _rushed_ into this, blinded, only seeing what he wanted to see, wanting to _show_ Dean that he could help to; he could and would make his brother proud of him this time around.

But Sam had failed … Again.

Failed to provide his big brother with the happiness that Sam wished for him, _wanted_ to give him because just as Not-Bobby was suggesting … maybe Dean was tired of having to play this same game over and over again; of having to rescue Sam from the monsters and from himself as well.

All Sam truly was, was a big failure and disappointment within Dean's life, a noose around his big brother's neck, dragging him down until …

"Come on Deano, admit it." Not-Bobby goaded. "Admit to us how tired you are of having to play hero and big brother to someone like _him_. I mean, why in world would you want to save someone who looks so pathetic and defeated? Is he really _worth_ all of this hassle? Honesty now Deano … how do you _really_ feel about your little brother?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Warnings:** Harsh language, violence, some physical violence but nothing too graphic, thoughts of self-incrimination.

 **Author's Note:** Not quite sure where this one came from. Not even sure if I like it or not but … it is set just after The Darkness is released. I have no knowledge of spells or how to perform them, so I have just used my imagination.

Sorry, I have no excuses for the lateness of this chapter. But in good news, I have the next one all ready to type up and I am working on what will hopefully be the last chapter.

Thank you all for your patience and understanding, and to let you know again, I WILL NOT GIVE UP ON THIS STORY UNTIL IT IS DONE.

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **kandilyn, Guest** and **AlxM** for your review and your kind words. Fingers crossed that you guys like this. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time out to read this, your support means a lot, thanks.

 **UNFORGIVEN REMEDY**

 **CHAPTER SEVEN**

Dean's continued silence at not-Bobby's goading and scathing accusations, spoke volumes to Sam and he couldn't help the way his shoulders slumped in shame and defeat, his head hanging low in embarrassment, wishing he could crawl into a hole somewhere and die.

God, what must Dean think of him now? So weak, so pathetic, so … worthless. After everything Dean had done for him, had given up for him … and all Sam could do was continually fail and disappoint his big brother.

Not-Bobby sighed in exasperation. "Okay, I guess you're not going to admit to such things with little Sammy standing there looking so forlorn, miserable and despondent." Not-Bobby laughed, delighted and pleased with himself. "Look at that Deano, looks like I have completely _broken_ little Sammy beyond repair, just like the useless little bitch that he is!"

"You watch your God damned mouth, you son of a bitch!" Dean snarled deeply, and Sam had to admit that Dean definitely _sounded_ pissed off to the point where his knuckles would be turning white because he was clenching his hands so tightly.

But Sam knew better.

Dean was only going through the motions. He didn't care, not really. And why the hell _should_ he care about someone like _him_? Not-Bobby was right. Sam wasn't worth it. Not worth all of the pain and sacrifice his big brother had given up for him over the years. Not worth –

"Nobody gets to talk about my brother like that." Dean growled, his tone full of fury, just a notch away from his wrathful rage tone before he destroyed every threat in his vicinity with a ferocity that surprised evil beings – both human and monster alike – and it hadn't taken the evil villains long to fear that rugged, ruthlessness in Dean Winchester's voice.

"And _anyone_ who talks about _my_ little brother like that, can expect some painful retribution … especially some wannabe Bobby knock off!"

The pure, pissed off, guttural growl that now emitted from Dean was enough to penetrate Sam's foggy, numb mind. If Dean was acting … then he was doing one hell of a good job because Sam was now half-way convinced of Dean's sincerity and honesty within the low guttural tone.

Sam looked up through lowered eyelashes to see not-Bobby's smug composure suddenly lost in the face of Dean's threatening, calm and deadly demeanour.

"I don't know exactly _how_ you got here Dean Winchester, and to be honest, I don't really care. I _was_ going to leave you alone after I took care of little Sammy here. But now … now you leave me no choice but to deal with you too. I guess I can take care of the problem right here and now by killing you both in one foul swoop." Not-Bobby shrugged nonchalantly, that knowing smirk that Sam had become used to seeing upon his surrogate father's face reappeared, obviously more composed now than he had been when Dean had suddenly and unexpected arrived here.

Sam may have been feeling low and uncertain right now, but any threat toward his big brother would _always_ snap Sam's focus and attention back to the present.

Sam's heart beat faster in fear as he automatically raised panicked eyes to search out familiar deep green eyes.

Sam relaxed slightly when he noticed Dean calmly looking back at him, not scared or worried about not-Bobby's threat, the cocky smirk that Sam was used to seeing right before Dean kicked someone's – or something's – butt, appeared upon Dean's expression, even offering Sam a quick wink of reassurance, non-verbally trying to tell Sam not to worry and that big brother had everything under control.

Sam felt himself relax even further, eagerly relenting the control to Dean, just like he always had and just like he always would, trusting Dean to fix things and make it better.

Sam knew that the two of them still had things to work through, the words and actions from _this_ world's people – Dad, Dean and Bobby – having more of an impact upon Sam than he had previously thought. But, for the moment, Sam was content to let Dean lead and would back him up in case things went sideways.

 **SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW**

Arriving in Sam's bizzaro world, Dean thought he would have to make small talk with this imposter-freak in order to buy himself some time to come up with a plan to defeat this Bobby wannabe and bring Sam home, bring him back to where he belonged; but Dean was pleasantly surprised when the stupid idiot started blabbering all by himself without any prompting or provoking from Dean.

Unfortunately, the stupid son of a bitch was just digging his own grave by trash talking his younger brother, trying to put Sam under the same hypnotic spell that he had been under ever since he had arrived here by making Sam doubt himself, doubt Dean and the worthiness of his life.

The Bobby-imposter was obviously hoping to get Sam back on board with the plan for Sam to kill himself, ending the cycle of the curse quickly and effectively.

Dean bit the inside of his check to keep the smile of fondness and pride from appearing upon his lips when he noticed Sam move out of the corner of his eye to keep both Dean and this imposter within his sights, cautiously watching for any subtle signals Dean might give him.

Dean kept his eyes upon the Bobby imposter, wanting the attention to fall onto him and not his brother. Unfortunately, the soon-to-be-dead asshole wasn't done with trying to fuck with his little brother's mind, belittling his masculinity, his worth and the role that he played in being Dean's little brother.

With a dawning horror and an increase of rage toward this _imposter_ , Dean realized that his gullible, guilt-ridden little brother was buying into this crap.

Sam's whole demeanour changed in a fraction of a second. His shoulders slumped, bitting upon his bottom lip to keep in the tears of guilt, shame and remorse, his gigantic frame shaking … and it was taking everything in Dean's power not to go over and strangle this imposter with his bare hands.

Nobody had the right to make Sam feel like this, to reduce him to almost tears, and Dean vowed that he would make this son of a bitch pay for every word that he had said, every single comment, every doubtful and guilty emotion Sam had experienced since being trapped in this freaky, bizzaro world.

Dean could feel his anger simmering now, so close to the surface, his thoughts on revenge and what he would do to this SOB, the imposter Bobby's words becoming muted as he begun to drown, floundering within his own churning emotions.

How _dare_ this bastard suggest that Sam meant nothing to him? How did he _feel_ about Sam? Dean was tempted to show this imposter _exactly_ how he felt about _anything_ that trash talked his baby brother, when the next words imposter Bobby spoke had Dean staring at this … _thing_ in disbelief.

Did he really just call his brother a little bitch?

Nobody had the right to call Sam that, except him. And that's when Dean felt his barely controlled anger explode.

"You watch your God damned mouth, you son of a bitch!" Dean snarled, hands clenched tightly into fists at his sides, glaring darkly at this Bobby-wannabe imposter. "Nobody gets to talk about my brother like that." Dean continued, his voice lowering to the guttural, wrathful growl that he got whenever anything – human or monster – threatened his brother.

"And _anyone_ who talks about _my_ little brother like that can expect some painful retribution … especially some wannabe Bobby knock off!" Dean concluded, fully engaged in his pissed-off, protective big brother mode, his muscles tensing, just in case he needed to move quickly in order to protect his unresponsive little brother from this imposter Bobby, whose eyes had darkened to such a degree that Dean almost stepped back out of reflex.

Almost. But his protective big brother instincts had never been dulled by any threat and Dean would be damned if this knock-off imposter would be the first being in history to make Dean leave his brother unprotected, unguarded.

Besides, Dean highly doubted that he could make himself back down, no matter how dangerous the situation was. The need to protect Sam was so strong within Dean that it overrode all other instincts in Dean … even the self-preservation instinct.

"I don't know exactly _how_ you got here Dean Winchester," the Bobby imposter said darkly, all traces of their loveable father figure left this imposter's face, the minute it's features twisted into an ugly grimace.

"And to be honest, I don't really care. I _was_ going to leave you alone after I took care of little Sammy here." Imposter Bobby tried to intimidate Dean by threatening Sam once again, but Dean stood his ground, determined not to give this _thing_ anything that it wanted.

"But now … now you leave me no choice but to deal with you too. I guess I can take care of the problem right here and now by killing you both in one foul swoop." The imposter shrugged, sighing loudly as if the whole situation bored him and was beneath him … which did nothing to improve Dean's temper.

Dean felt, rather than saw, his brother's scared hazel orbs looking and searching for him and Dean could see the fear for him reflected within those familiar eyes.

Dean automatically soothed his younger brother, projecting an aura of calm that he really didn't feel, but did it for the sake of keeping his emotionally distraught sibling calm. He even managed to wink at Sam reassuringly before he turned to face the imposter Bobby once more.

"You think you can take me?" Dean's lips curled into his trade-mark smirk, his eyes deadly serious as he glared hard at the threat before him. "Well, come on then, take your best shot." Dean invited, the hard glint of determination and fearlessness crossing his features as he continued his staring match with the Bobby imposter, not backing down an inch, matching glare for glare, resolute in his knowledge that this would be one battle that he would win.

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

Sam stared at his brother, gobsmacked by his big brother's cocky attitude and the invitation for not-Bobby to attack him.

This was Dean's plan?!

To egg this psycho on? To see how far Dean could push him before not-Bobby lost his cool and made a mistake?

God, his brother could be so … brash and impossible at times. And Sometimes, Sam had to grudgingly admit, that strategy had worked. Dean had managed to provoke the monster they were hunting – human or otherwise – to a level where they did make a mistake and the brothers could gain the upper hand.

But in this instance, Sam feared that this was the worst thing Dean could have done. Having been in this alternate world and dealing with this not-Bobby for as long as he had, Sam had become aware that acting tough and pushing not-Bobby's buttons would not be a good thing.

This being seemed to thrive off of misery, twisting and corrupting a person's mind their thoughts and beliefs so much that they would eventually succumb to this being's wish in making them kill themselves.

Hell, Sam had almost been convinced of doing that exact same thing himself!

This … whatever the hell it was … was a master of manipulation. And Sam knew on a basic, deep visceral level that trying to intimidate this being or provoking it enough to show its weakness was not going to work. Not on this creature. And definitely not here in the creature's own world that _it_ had created.

In fact, now that Sam thought about it, confronting not-Bobby in this reality – in the world that he had created – was probably the worst thing that the brothers could have done. If they were to have any chance of beating this _thing_ , then they should have brought it into their world; where it probably would have been weaker, trapped it and found a way to destroy it forever.

But confronting it here, with both Winchesters trapped in not-Bobby's alternate world … did they honestly have any chance of beating it at all?

Sam wasn't confident of their ability to be able to defeat this thing here, in _his_ world. And knowing his brother as well as he did, hidden beneath all of that defensive, false bravado, Sam knew that Dean didn't think their chances of beating this thing were very high either.

Whether they could defeat not-Bobby or not remained to be seen. All that Sam knew for sure was that Dean was here and there was no way that Sam was going to abandon him. Win or lose … they would at least do it together.

Unconsciously, Sam mirrored his brother's posture; muscles taunt and ready to move fast if need be, adrenaline pumping through his system, keeping his senses on high alert and ready for whatever danger came their way.

Sam was ready. Ready to rush to his brother's defence, ready to fight, ready to intercept not-Bobby if he decided to charge at his brother, but what he was not ready for was not-Bobby's booming laughter, which echoed off the fabric of this world, the sound of uncontrolled and uncontained laughter sounding off and odd in such a dreary and tense situation as this one.

Sam shared an incredulous, puzzled look with his brother as not-Bobby doubled over with laughter, tears rolling down his checks and Sam could see Dean's frustration begin to soar. If there was one thing Dean hated more than losing … it was someone laughing at him, especially when he was deadly serious.

Instinctively, Sam moved closer to Dean, hoping to calm his brother down before he did something stupid, silently pleading with Dean not to do or say anything that would make their situation worse.

But Dean … Sam could tell by the deep shade of green that his brother's eyes had become was far beyond hearing or seeing reason now. And there was more than embarrassment and frustration at being laughed at when he'd been so serious; there was also a lot of hurt there as well.

Ah shit. If Dean was frustrated, hurt _and_ embarrassed, then shit was really going to hit the fan now.

In a quick succession of strides, barely aware that he was going to move before he did, Sam found himself at Dean's side, expression hard and grim, silently pledging his support to his older brother as he stood there ready to face the fall out and consequences of what would happen next.

 **SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW**

Dean relaxed slightly with Sam by his side, pleased to see that this place and the imposter's power seemed to be weakening on Sam and he appeared to be more like the little brother that Dean knew and loved, but the continued laughter of this imposter caused Dean's temper to spike even further out of control.

"What the hell are you laughing at, you son of a bitch?" Dean demanded through clenched teeth, his hands balled into fists, his body vibrating with barely controlled rage.

Sam shot his brother a soothing gesture, urging Dean to calm down, to not do anything rash just yet. Let's just wait and see what not-Bobby's next move would be before they did anything.

Dean shook his head, indicating that he was through with playing games and this was going to end now, one way or another. "Hey, asshat, I'm talking to you!" Dean's voice rose slightly, more infuriated because he was being ignored.

Finally, after what seemed like a life time, the being's laughter began to die off and he rose to a standing position, wiping the tears from his face. "Oh, I'm sorry Dean, really I am. I know that you were being all serious and all, but that … right there … that was classic!"

The imposter-not-Bobby let out another couple of deep chuckles before he regained his composure and met two sets of puzzled, quizzical eyes, although Dean's green eyes were full of fuming anger as well.

"Yes, that was typical Dean Winchester's go to defensive mechanism when backed into a corner with no possible way out. Man, I really needed that. Thanks, Deano."

Dean's teeth were grinding together now, almost painfully as he tried to keep his temper under some kind of control. "Is this some fucking game to you?" Dean roared, the vain in his temple beginning to pound with ferocity now. "Drop this _act_ right now and release my brother or so help me, I will end you, you son of a bitch!"

"Dean," Sam cautioned under his breath, instantly detecting the subtle changes that had overcome this being once more. The power that seemed to radiate off of him was immense, and yet, somehow … it seemed familiar as well.

Sure, they had come across a lot of beings with power – angels and demons being top among them, not to mention the demi-gods and Gods they had faced over the years – and sometimes those beings liked to toy with them and play the brothers against each other, trying to see if they could break either Winchester, but they hadn't come across a being who could create their own reality, had they?

Sam frowned, recalling one being who was powerful enough to create their own world and who loved nothing more than to meddle in the brothers' lives, his cruel pranks and jokes causing Sam to relive Dean dying day after day … not to mention the time the two brothers were stuck in TV Land thanks to that same being … but he had died … hadn't he?

Died at the hands of his brother Lucifer. There was no way that he could still be alive, could he? Still, this wouldn't be the first time that Sam and Dean had thought that particular son of bitch had died and hadn't.

Was it really so difficult to imagine that the Trickster had managed to deceive, not only them, but Lucifer as well into thinking that he was dead, while he went underground to cover his tracks, disappearing from existence as if he had never been there at all?

He had done it before. There was no reason to believe that he wouldn't do it again.

But why would he do this?

If this was indeed the Trickster, aka Gabriel, the arch-angel, then why the hell was he playing such a cruel prank on them? And why had he revealed himself now after all of these years?

Even though the Trickster's pranks were cruel and sometimes caused even physical injuries, he had always done it for a reason. If this was the Trickster, then there was obviously a lesson of some kind that he was trying to teach the brothers, but damned if Sam knew _what_ that lesson was.

And if it really was Gabriel … then the two of them were without weapons of any kind and they had absolutely no chance of beating such a powerful being as an arch-angel with no weapons and in a world that he had created.

But … it couldn't be the Trickster because Sam could vividly recall doing a spell, which had inadvertently transported him into _this_ alternate reality. Could Gabriel had somehow hijacked the spell and confiscated Sam to a world of _his_ intention?

Hmm, it could be possible.

And if this was the arch-angel, then the two Winchester siblings were totally and royally screwed.

 **SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW**

The imposter-not-Bobby's whole demeanour changed in a matter of seconds as he held his own against the elder Winchester's deadly glare, his sharp hearing catching the younger Winchester's subtle warning to his brother to be cautious.

"You're absolutely correct Dean, my apologies. I shouldn't be laughing or playing _pranks_ on you at a time like this, should I?"

Dean's eyes narrowed slightly at this imposter's words, something niggling at the back of his mind, but Dean pushed it aside. He had more important things to worry about than the slight unease that had settled in the pit of his stomach.

He had to get Sam out of here. That was the most important thing right now. Get Sam out of here, back into his real body and _then_ Dean could ponder on _why_ he suddenly felt sick to his stomach with dread.

It was almost as if something about this imposter seemed familiar as Dean willed that thought to the back of his mind, his body on high alert now, watching the subtle movements of this imposter closely, looking for signs that would signal what this being's plan of attack would be.

But instead of attacking, as expected, the imposter-not-Bobby eyed the two Winchester siblings and shook his head. "Look at you two, standing there, side by side, portraying a unity and a bound that can never be broken. Except … it's a facade, isn't it boys?

You two are so out of sync with each other … it's almost pitiful. The formidable Winchester brothers who stood toe to toe with angels, demons and Lucifer himself, and won …"

The imposter whistled sharply in appreciation. "Now those two were bad ass. No matter what happened before that and anything that had come between them – the deception, the lies, the secrets – all of it was forgotten, their brotherly bond forged more tightly than before, defeating not only the angels and Lucifer's attempt at starting the Apocalypse, but their own morbid, miserable destinies as well.

Those two were a force to be reckoned with; unbeatable and unchallenged in their belief and love for one another. But the two of _you_ … are pathetic. Just a shell, a cheap imitation of the men you once were."

The imposter studied each Winchester sibling in turn, scowling and scoffing in disgust and disappointment. "The way you two are now … you have _no_ chance of beating the Darkness. Not unless _I_ can change that." He mumbled under his breath.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Dean growled, shocked and appalled by how much of their lives this imposter seemed to know.

Not to brag or anything, but Dean knew the Winchester name was well known among the supernatural beings. In the beginning it was thanks to their father, but over the years, the Winchester brothers had started to make a name for themselves.

Some beings intentionally sought the Winchesters out because of the price they no doubt had upon their heads, and to have bragging rights to their peers about how they were the ones who had managed to defeat the infamous Winchester siblings.

None of those SOBS had succeeded, and Dean would be damned it this imposter Bobby-wannabe would succeed today.

"The two of us," Dean motioned between himself and Sam, a smirk gracing his lips in challenge. "We're _still_ bad ass. And no matter how out of sync you _think_ we are … we're still going to take your imposter ass down. Right Sammy?"

Dean turned to Sam, expecting Sam to be wearing his usual Sam Winchester serious expression, trying not to roll his eyes at his older brother's antics; and although Sam did have a serious expression upon his face, Dean couldn't help but be alarmed by how pale his younger brother's complexion was, his hazel eyes widening as if the imposter-not-Bobby had suddenly grown two heads.

 _Sammy_ , Dean nudged Sam's shoulder, tilting his head slightly to the side. _Are you okay?_

Sam offered Dean a small smile which he could feel trembling upon his lips before shrugging slightly. _I'll be fine_.

Dean returned his attention back toward the imposter, not convinced by Sam's assurances, more worried about Sam than he was before, keeping a close eye upon him out of the corner of his eye.

What would have caused Sam to lose all of his colour like that? Why was there a sudden look of fear and dread within those familiar hazel eyes? Was it because of the imposter's words? Or was there something more serious going on here – like hiding an injury that Dean wasn't aware of – serious?

Instinctively, Dean moved closer toward Sam in some unconscious effort to protect and shield him from the unknown threat that Sam seemed to be scared of.

"This game that you've had my brother play, it ends now." Dean announced with a commanding authoritative, not-to-be-reckoned with or ignored tone. "We both know you're not the real Bobby. So, why don't you drop this act and show us who you really are, and then I can show you exactly _why_ you should have never screwed around with _my_ little brother!"

The imposter-not-Bobby chuckled lightly at Dean's threatening words. "No. I kind of like this look on me … I think I'll keep it for a while. As to your comment about playing around with your brother … I guess that's true in some way. But if you two were even _half_ as formidable and as close as you were when you took on Lucifer and won, there's no way that I could have tricked little Sammy here into performing that little "spell"."

Dean's eyes widened slightly, the implications of the imposter's words suddenly becoming clear to him and making more sense than it had before. "You're the one that planted that damn curse book in our library in the first place, aren't you?" Dean accused, his green eyes brimming with fury, sickened and disgusted by this imposter's manipulation skills.

Buy why? Why would this imposter do something as despicable as this? And how could he be sure that either Winchester would ever need the book in order to do one of the curses in the first place? Had he somehow _possessed_ Sammy to do this?

No, that was impossible. Nothing and no one could possess Sam now; not since both brothers had tattooed themselves against possession … well, except maybe angels, but you had to consent to that, or trick someone into consenting as Dean had done with Sam in order to save his life.

Dean's internal monologue was interrupted by a sharp inhale at his side. Dean turned to Sam, noticing that his complexion was devoid of any colour what-so-ever now. He looked so pale, so _white_ , that Dean feared his brother would keel over at any moment.

"Did you say _curse book_?" Sam gasped, his eyes wide with fear now. "Dean, I was doing a _spell_ , not a _curse_." Sam said, positive that he wasn't that drunk not to notice the difference between a spell book and a curse book.

"Sorry to burst your bubble Sammy, but it was definitely a _curse book_. Trust me, I almost burned the damn book on principal alone once I realized what it really was. In fact, I am more determined than ever to burn the damn thing once we got out of this mess." Dean muttered under his breath.

Sam's eyes got impossibly larger at Dean's words. "But …" he swallowed convulsively, horrified and appalled by his own actions and the huge mistake he had made in performing a curse instead of a spell.

In fact, now that Sam thought it, it made a lot more sense to him. This world, the things that had happened, how everything had gone horribly wrong no matter what he had done to stop it … it definitely pointed more towards a curse than a spell.

Sam had been drunk. He had been so desperate to prove himself to Dean, to make sure that Dean got a brother he deserved, that it was definitely possible that Sam had mistaken a curse book for a spell book.

"Ah, crap!" Sam whispered weakly, slapping a hand against his own forehead in disgust.

Even when he had tried to make a better life for Dean, he had screwed it up again. Always with the screw-ups; always having to make Dean come and save him because he _thought_ he was doing the right thing.

"I'm sorry Dean," Sam mumbled, his head hanging low in embarrassment and shame, the guilt of his past failures and now this current failure, rolling though him in waves of despair.

Why the hell couldn't he ever do _anything_ right?!

"Aw, don't feel bad little Sammy," the imposter-not-Bobby said in mock affection and concern. "It's not your fault that you didn't see the book for what it truly was. After all, I had designed it to be whatever book you needed it to be. You wanted a spell, so in your eyes, it became a spell book.

If you had wanted to look up lore on a monster … then, that's what it would have been. It would have been whatever you wanted it to be, all for the sole purpose of you using it and trapping you here in this world that I created specifically for you."

The imposter winked at Sam, a smug, mischievous smile twisted upon his lips, delighted that it had caused such confusion and chaos within the younger Winchester's life.

Now the games could really begin.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Warnings:** Harsh language, violence, some physical violence but nothing too graphic, thoughts of self-incrimination.

 **Author's Note:** Not quite sure where this one came from. Not even sure if I like it or not but … it is set just after The Darkness is released. I have no knowledge of spells or how to perform them, so I have just used my imagination.

Well, this chapter took an unexpected turn that I wasn't planning on …. Funny how stories can do that to you. Anyway, hope you all enjoy and working on the next chapter as we speak.

Thank you all for your patience and understanding, and to let you know again, I WILL NOT GIVE UP ON THIS STORY UNTIL IT IS DONE.

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Pie Love Luci** for your review and your kind words. Fingers crossed that you guys like this. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time out to read this, your support means a lot, thanks.

 **UNFORGIVEN REMEDY**

 **CHAPTER EIGHT**

Sam's head snapped up at not-Bobby's words, his shock and confusion morphing into hurt and anger. All of this had been a trick? All of this had been designed so that Sam would trap himself here?

But why? What was the purpose of all of this? And why in the hell had he targeted Sam? How in the world had he known that Sam would even need such a book?

Was it because of his failures, because he was weak, because he was always so much more desperate than Dean; desperate to fix the fuck-ups that he had made over the years and was still continuing to make?

"Why?!" Sam choked out in anguish. "Why would you _do_ this?"

"Why?" the imposter-not-Bobby repeated incredulously as if the answer should already be obvious to him.

He looked from one Winchester sibling to the other, seeing the same bewildered look upon both of their faces. "Oh wow." The imposter whistled softly. "You poor sorry sons of bitches … you still don't get it, do you? Man, you guys really are out of sync."

Dean's hand twitched violently, the only outward sign that showed his surprise at some of the words this imposter said that seemed so familiar that it felt as if Dean was suffering from deja vu.

Even now, years after it had occurred, Dean could recall those same words being thrown at him. He could also recall his own defiance and belief that together with Sam, they could overcome their own destinies and defeat the odds of becoming the true vessels for Michael and Lucifer.

It was after they had escaped TV Land, which the Trickster, aka the arch-angel Gabriel had sent them to in order to teach them a lesson; for them to play their roles, accept their destinies, accept the roles that had been given to them and let Michael and Lucifer possess them so that Michael could defeat Lucifer, the angels having finally gotten their precious Armageddon and succeeded in destroying half of the planet as well as all of those human lives that would get caught in the cross-fire between the two warring angel siblings.

Arch-angel Gabriel … the Trickster … there was no way this was him. Dean had seen him _die_ at the hands of Lucifer. But, then again, he'd seen stranger things happen than an arch-angel being returned from the dead

How many times had he died? Or Sam for that matter? And yet, here they both were fighting the good fight. And here Gabriel stood, still butting his nose in where it didn't belong; still treating their lives as if it were some _game_.

Dean shared a knowing look with Sam, seeing the truth of who they were really facing within Sam's large, haunted hazel eyes.

Dean could have forgiven Gabriel for the TV Land thing, he would have been glad to know that the son of a bitch was still alive because he had helped them set Lucifer back within the cage, after all. But seeing Sam's eyes fill with horror, doubt, guilt and remorse, bringing up things that should have remained buried in the past, causing Sam to feel so guilt-ridden that he had been on the verge of killing himself, caused Dean's focus to narrow down to pinpoint accuracy, the anger within him remaining just below the surface, ready to explode at any moment and Dean knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would make the arch-angel Gabriel pay for everything he had put his brother through.

No one had the right to put that look within his baby brother's hazel eyes and Dean vowed that he would be roasting himself some arch-angel feathers in holy oil once they returned to their reality.

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

Gabriel.

Now that Dean knew who and what he was dealing with, he knew that this imposter Bobby was _not_ an all-powerful omnipotent being; he _could_ be beaten.

Unfortunately, unlike in the TV Land the Trickster had placed him and Sam in, Dean wasn't in possession of the holy oil which they had used to trap this Trickster-arch-angel, which had secured their freedom.

Now, in this new reality that Gabriel had created, there was nothing here in which Dean could use to fight this son of a bitch.

His instinct was to attack this bastard head-on, confront him, force him to release both himself and Sam … but Dean knew all too well that brute strength was not going to work on this guy.

Hell, with a click of his fingers, this asshole could kill both Winchester siblings without even breaking a sweat. And the fact that he hadn't done that yet meant that maybe this situation wasn't as hopeless as Dean feared it was.

If Gabriel had wanted to hurt them, he would have done it by now. The fact that he hadn't, gave Dean a small measure of hope that they would get out of this somehow.

Gabriel obviously didn't want them dead. But it was what this former Trickster turned arch-angel actually wanted from them which caused Dean's apprehensive levels to increase. Because, from past experiences with dealing with this douchebag … those reasons were never good.

"Let me ask you Dean … why are you really here?" Gabriel inquired, who still wore Bobby's face as if it were a protective shield that would be able to prevent Dean from issuing some lethal payback upon this menacing, mischievous, deadly prankster, once they returned to their world.

Now that Dean knew exactly _who_ this imposter was – no matter what mask he was wearing or who he pretended to be – Dean would show him no mercy, no remorse for what he had put his brother through.

Dean rolled his eyes at the stupid question that Gabriel had posed to him. Yeah, as if the answer to that question wasn't obvious! "Why do you think dumbass? Sam's my brother and I'm going to return him to our time no matter what."

"Really?" Gabriel-Bobby's eyes sparkled with interest as he gazed at Dean intently, a mischievous, playful smirk coming onto his lips as he studied Dean, leaving Dean to squirm under the sudden attention he was receiving.

"Yes, really." Dean snapped almost defensively. What other reason did he need? But still the imposter's attention remained upon Dean, almost as if he was trying to catch Dean out on a lie.

"Interesting," he chuckled and Dean couldn't help the sudden feeling of dread that had settled within him, knowing that whatever came next would not be good.

"So, you're basically saying that you would help Sam in any circumstance because he's your brother … is that right?"

"Of course," Dean answered indignantly, sensing a trap of some kind but not knowing exactly what it was.

"What about when Sam got addicted to demon blood and was running around, consorting … and _fucking_ a demon? Was he still your brother then?"

"Of course," Dean answered without any hesitation, his hands balled into fists, sensing Sam stiffen slightly beside him at the reminder of Ruby … something that the brothers had never really broached or brought up since it had become clear that Ruby's true intention had been to use Sam from the start in order to free Lucifer from the cage.

"You sold your soul for Sam," Gabriel-Bobby said, beginning to pace in front of the Winchester brothers and Dean couldn't help but feel that he was being interrogated.

"You went to Hell for him, spent _forty years_ in that place being tortured until finally they broke you and you became a torturer yourself, all because you sold your soul for your darling baby brother and couldn't live with him dead."

The imposter paused and turned to face Dean, a curious, mocking expression upon his face. "Didn't it make you mad … weren't you _disappointed_ in what little Sammy had become … what he had been _doing_ while you were suffering in Hell?

After everything you had sacrificed and given up for him, wasn't it like a slap in the face to realize just how far your baby brother had fallen? How close he was becoming to the monster your father had warned you about?

Didn't you ever think about what your father had told you before he died – to save Sammy or to kill him – and wish that you had been brave enough to have taken that step and ended your beloved brother's life?"

Dean felt as if he had been slapped in the face, instant anger rising within him at the words and implications this bastard was implying. "Shut up and back the hell off." Dean warned, taking a step forward and shuffling a little to the left in order to shield and protect Sam who was staring at Dean with wide, shocked eyes. "You have no idea of what you're talking about!"

"Tell me Deano … do you ever regret selling your soul for Sam? Don't you sometimes wish you had left him buried in the ground, becoming food for the worms … especially after Sam turned around and _betrayed_ you?"

"You son of a bitch!" Dean snarled, his green eyes becoming cold, hard, ruthless, his look murderous and unforgiving even though he was looking into his beloved Bobby's familiar eyes.

"I am going to _kill_ you." Dean vowed, his body already in motion, wanting nothing more than to slam a fist into that smug, self-satisfied smile. "How can you _think_ that I would ever –"

"Oh no Deano, you've got it all wrong," Gabriel-Bobby countered, his eyes suddenly serious, even as that smug smirk remained. " _I_ happen to think that it wasn't Sam's fault at all. He was manipulated every step of the way, made vulnerable because of your absence, easier to control and be led down the road that both demons and angels wanted him to walk down. He didn't really have any choice in the matter."

Dean stopped, perplexed by Gabriel's words. If that's what the arch-angel truly thought, then why was he saying all of these hurtful and mean things? Why was he bringing up such a painful moment in both of the siblings' past, opening up old wounds that had never truly healed?

"Little Sammy over there is the one that thinks all of that." Gabriel replied with a nod in Sam's direction.

Wait, what?!

Sammy thought that …

Dean swallowed hard and turned to look at his brother. "Is that true Sammy? Is that what you really think? That I wished you _dead_?" Dean's voice broke over the last word and Sam could easily hear the hurt and desperation within his brother's voice.

Sam couldn't deny those words, couldn't tell his brother that he didn't believe them or that he didn't think about it at least once a day. Sometimes, when he was at his lowest – usually after he had done something to make Dean's trust and faith in him dissolve – he wished that Dean had had just _abandoned_ him to his fate; left him _dead_ like he should have been or _killed_ him like their father had wanted Dean to do before it had ever gotten to the point where Dean could no longer trust Sam, to the point where Dean had become _scared_ of Sam because he was drinking _demon blood_.

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out and all he could do was hang his head in shame, small tremors of emotion working throughout his body, simultaneously wanting to know the answer to those questions and dreading the answers at the same time.

Sam took a moment to regather his emotions before he looked up at his brother, a sad smile upon his lips. "I wouldn't blame you if that's what you thought Dean," he said softly, instantly forgiving his older brother for any dark thoughts he might had had during that time. "I _was_ out of control; a train wreck; on a one-way ticket to –"

"Sammy, no!" Dean gasped, striding back to his brother in two large strides, one hand on Sam's shoulder, his other at the back of Sam's neck in a gesture that offered love, support and understanding. "I have _never_ regretted selling my soul for you. Nor have I _ever_ wished you dead."

Dean's green eyes were deadly serious as he maintained eye contact with his brother, letting Sam _see_ the honesty of his words as he let down his emotional barriers slightly. "I have _never_ wanted that for you kiddo, not ever. And what Dad said …. He was an ass and shouldn't have placed that burden upon my shoulders. He should have _known_ that I could not and _would_ not ever kill you or see you dead."

Dean paused to take a deep breath as he studied his younger brother's expression closely, seeing a mixture of guilt, relief and deep sorrow within those haunted hazel eyes.

"You have to let that go buddy," Dean told Sam softly, gently, giving a gentle squeeze of encouragement to the back of Sam's neck. "There is nothing in this world that I wouldn't do for you. And it's not because of Dad's orders for me to look out for you or because you _think_ I have to … it's because you are _my_ little brother.

I _raised_ you and if you were to die …" Dean swallowed hard and couldn't help the tears that gathered within the corners of his eyes. "… then I would quickly follow you. Because this world ain't worth living in if you're not in it. Do you understand me?"

Sam locked wide, shocked eyes onto Dean's at that revelation, knowing by the way Dean held eye contact with him and the steadiness of his gaze as well as the slight shake in his older brother's lowered timbred tone that Dean was telling the truth.

And in that moment, Sam finally understood that Dean _had_ forgiven him for all of those moments concerning Ruby and the pending apocalypse a long time ago.

It was Sam who hadn't been able to forgive himself. And if he was being completely honest with himself, he never would … but it did lighten his load a little to realize that the older brother he loved, idolized and looked up to no longer blamed him for that awful time in their lives.

"Let it go, little brother," Dean said, his eyes softening, seeing the conflicting emotions raging within his younger brother's eyes. "Let the past stay in the past. For now, let's just worry about getting the hell out here, okay?"

Sam gave an awkward, stiff nod of acknowledgement, too emotional to offer his brother any words, but hoping that Dean could see how grateful he was to be forgiven for those times.

Dean gazed into Sam's hazel eyes a moment longer to make sure that Sam understood Dean's words and the truth to them before he nodded his head, satisfied that his message had been received.

"Okay then," Dean released his hold, giving a gentle clap upon Sam's shoulder before he moved away to give his brother some breathing space. "Any idea on _how_ we go about getting out of here?"

Sam chuckled, fondly shaking his head. That was so typical of Dean; got you all fired up but really had no plan in order to achieve that desired goal.

"Hey, I'm the one who comes up with the ideas, it's up to _you_ how we go about getting it done." Dean retorted affectionately. "So, put that big brain of yours to use and get us the hell out of this crazy, bizzaro world."

"Okay Dean, I'll get right on that," Sam scoffed sarcastically, teasingly but with a touch of serious consideration. Because, no matter how ridiculously absurd his brother's suggestion was, Sam couldn't help but at least _try_ to comply with his brother's wishes.

It had been a long time since Dean had looked at him like that; so open, vulnerable, a trust and belief that if anyone could make it happen, then Sam could. Sam never wanted to disappoint his brother again, and as much as a long shot it might be, Sam would do his damnedest to think of a way that would get them out of here.

 **SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW**

"It's not going to work you know," Dean proclaimed to the Bobby-Gabriel almost defiantly as he stood shoulder to shoulder with his brother, united against a common goal and cause.

The Bobby impersonator raised his eyebrows quizzically at Dean's statement.

"You're not going to defeat us by trying to turn us against each other. We're too strong for that." Dean stated confidently, his green eyes sparkling with defiance and determination.

"I see," Gabriel-Bobby said, his tone neutral. "I suppose you think you've won because you're rediscovered your faith and belief in your younger brother once more; that it's game over and I'll surrender quickly and send you back to the real world that you belong in. Is that what you think should happen?"

He paused to look at both brothers, seeing hopefulness flaring within their eyes. They had won the game, beaten the system, so by all rights they should be able to go home and live out their lives together happily ever after.

But, unfortunately for them, they had only succeeded in figuring out _half_ of the game and if they didn't figure out the rest of it soon, then little Sammy really _would_ perish and die a horribly, agonizing death in this world. It was time to see if that hope, trust and belief in one another swung _both_ ways.

"Normally you would be correct and I would send you back, but …" the imposter pursed his lips, considering the two boys he had somehow gotten attached to despite trying to remain indifferent and neutral.

If they didn't get rid of this baggage – this guilt – and learn to work together again, then the newest threat that they now faced – the Darkness – would win and the world would succumb and be no more.

Because, even if everyone else had forgotten about the Darkness … he had not. And he could still remember how much of an effort it had taken to trap the Darkness in the first place.

Now the Winchesters, these two incredibly self-sacrificing, guilt-ridden morons were the only ones standing between the Darkness and the annihilation of the world.

So, no matter how bad this got, or how much they hated him after this, he had to proceed with this plan and see it through to the end. The boys had to be in sync with each other once again if they had any hope of defeating the Darkness, and this was his way of giving these two stubbornly brilliant men a crash course in reinstating their belief and trust in not only each other, but themselves as well.

Let the games continue …

That self-satisfied, smug smirk that Dean had begun to hate, resurfaced upon the imposter's face once more and Dean instinctively knew that they weren't getting free from this just yet.

He felt Sam tense beside him and Dean couldn't help but echo his brother's wariness foreboding about what the Trickster had in store for them next.

As if producing this world in order to torture and torment Sam by making his loved ones turn against him wasn't bad enough, now, he wanted to inflict emotional tragedy into the mix as well.

The two of them had suffered enough already. Both of them had made mistakes, said things that shouldn't have been said out of hurt or anger … or maybe both, but that didn't mean they had to be reminded about every little mistake they had made throughout the years.

Dean would not stand here and go over every single thing that had gone wrong, decisions made or words said … especially with this two-bit hack and knock-off wannabe Bobby. He had better things to do than to stand here and play these stupid games.

Also, the thought of seeing more guilt heaped upon Sam's shoulders, watching the haunted look become more pronounced and prominent within his baby brother's eyes was almost too much for Dean to bare.

He could handle a lot of things; but Sam in pain – whether it was physically or emotionally – was not one of them. And Dean would be damned if he would continue to let that happen now. No one had the right to hurt his brother … not even a former arch-angel of the Lord.

"I'm not sure if letting little Sammy leave with you is the best option right now Deano. He's not safe when he's with you. If he's here, at least he'll be protected and not subjected to your volatile anger and wrath."

Dean froze at those mocking familiar words because how many times had Dean himself thought that Sam would be better off without him and his unlucky fortune?

Too many times to count.

But Dean was selfish and he was a coward. He didn't want to do this job alone and he never had enough balls to just stay away from his brother and let Sam live the simple, normal life that he had craved since learning what it was their father really did for a living.

He had told himself that he was doing it for all of the right, noble reasons; he wasn't going to _abandon_ his brother; no one could protect Sam like he could and because they were _family_ , it meant something special; they shared a deep brotherly bond that no one could penetrate or break no matter how hard they tried.

But it was all lies … well, not exactly lies. Dean _did_ believe all of those things, but the main reason he did what he did and why he had dragged Sam back into the life when their Dad had gone missing was because he was scared of doing this by himself; of _dying_ alone, of living the hunter's life where you trusted no one.

It was a lonely, depressing life, being a hunter and Dean hadn't wanted to turn into another hunter who had lost their life in the business, no allies, no friends or family. He'd wanted his life to count for something, to _mean_ something. And the only way it could mean something was if he had Sam by his side. If he died … at least Sam would remember him, mourn him and his life wouldn't have been in vain; wouldn't have been for nothing.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Sam growled, fiercely and protectively. "Dean would _never_ hurt me!"

"Oh really?" Gabriel-Bobby turned his eyes upon the younger Winchester, seeing proud defiance within his eyes. This kid did not like anyone talking trash about his big brother. Well, this was about to get really interesting.

"As far as I can tell, Dean's hurt you numerous times. Not only with his … callous, hurtful words, but physically was well. How many times has Dean punched you because you've said something he didn't agree with or didn't like?"

Sam's jaw clenched tighter in anger, recalling the few times that Dean's fists had stuck him. But there were reasons behind _why_ Dean had done that; namely because he was hurting or Sam had done something to disappoint him again. But the way this guy said it … he was making Dean out to be a man who liked to beat up on his younger brother. And that was most definitely _not_ true.

Dean had done nothing other than protect and shelter Sam his whole life and for this … abhorrent _monster_ to suggest otherwise caused the protective streak to flare brightly within Sam. Nobody talked shit about his brother, and even if Dean had done those things, they were taken completely out of context.

Of _course,_ it sounded as if Dean was a raging alcoholic who occasionally hit Sam out of anger or fear, but the truth of the matter was far more complicated than that.

Dean had stuck Sam only a handful of times in their lives, but that was only because Sam had pushed Dean too far and Dean was warning him to back off or Dean had tried to knock some sense into Sam when Sam was self-destructing and, on a path, full of darkness, pain and betrayal.

Sam didn't blame Dean for any of those times and it infuriated him that this son of a bitch would bring up issues which Sam knew Dean had never forgiven himself for, even though Sam had forgiven Dean.

"Dean has _never_ and will never hurt me." Sam declared in a strong, passionate voice. "And if you know _anything_ about us at all, you'd know that _everything_ Dean has done has been to protect me and keep me safe. If you're looking for someone to blame or get mad at, then look no further than me."

Sam took a deep, steadying breath and let it out slowly, his emotions ruling his brain and common sense at the moment, furiously determined to make this imposter see that Dean wasn't to blame for any of this. Dean was the good one here, it was Sam who was the one who kept stuffing everything up, making his big brother lose faith in him time and time again because of the decisions that he had made.

" _I_ am the one who keeps making all of the mistakes here. _I_ am the one who causes Dean to lose faith in me and turn toward alternative allies … be it an angel or a vampire.

 _I_ am the one who keeps repeating the same mistakes all over because I thought I was doing the right thing." Sam spat out bitterly; self-loathing and hatred within his tone when talking about himself, but pride and conviction when talking about his brother.

"Dean has done nothing wrong here. And every single negative action that Dean has shown can be linked back to me and one of my epic screw-ups. You want to point fingers here, make sure you're pointing it at the right person and _leave my brother alone_." Sam stepped forward, slightly in front of Dean now as if he could somehow protect Dean from everything.

"Oh, Sammy, no," Dean uttered on a soft breath, shocked by his younger brother's confession, horrified to think that Sam held all of this guilt and shame and held himself responsible for everything.

How could Dean not have seen the self-hatred that filled his baby brother's tone, locked and hidden behind a smile or sarcastic remark. Sam had been crying out, screaming to him for help, but Dean didn't do emotions. If Sam came close to revealing any sort of emotion, Dean would always find a way to shut him down because he didn't do "chick-flick" moments.

This was worse than he thought. And Dean hadn't been this scared … this terrified for his brother in a long time; not since the church and the realization that Sam didn't care if he lived or died; that he thought so little of himself that it didn't matter if he didn't make it. The only thing that had mattered was completing that last trial and closing the gates of Hell forever.

The look that had been in his younger brother's eyes that night, was back in Sam's eyes once more and Dean feared that he wouldn't be able to pull Sam back from the brink this time; that Sam was too far gone and would fall right over the edge, leaving Dean alone, fill of guilt, pain and remorse.

No!

If there was one thing Dean was good at, it was protecting and looking out for his baby brother. And if that meant protecting Sam from himself, then that's exactly what Dean would do. Because Dean meant what he'd said earlier. If Sam died, then Dean would follow shortly after. And if there was something Dean treasured more than his own life, it was making sure that his brother continued breathing.

"Hmm, now that's interesting," Gabriel-Bobby pursed his lips thoughtfully, a teasing twinkle within his eyes. "So, according to you, your brother is a saint and has done nothing wrong, is that correct?"

"That's right." Sam agreed with a nod.

"So, what about the time that he tried to kill you … twice for that matter? Once with the hammer and the other time not more than twenty-four hours ago."

Sam twitched slightly, but his voice remained strong, fill of conviction. "That wasn't Dean's fault. It was the Mark. It changed him, made him do things that he wouldn't normally do." Sam's lips curled up into a smirk of his own.

"Besides, if you want to swap stories about one of us almost killing the other, then I've been guilty of that a few times myself. So, no. Not even _that_ falls upon Dean's shoulders."

"Well, that's true." The Trickster conceded with a chuckle. "The way you two have tried to kill each other over the years, I'm surprised that you guys are even on speaking terms. But that's not the worst thing Dean's done, is it Sam? After all, Dean has no problem in … _replacing_ you with other beings, has he?"

Anger flared briefly within Sam's hazel eyes before he continued to look at Gabriel-Bobby coolly, not rising to the bait even though that was still a definite _sore_ point for Sam.

"Let's see, first there was the angel Castiel –"

"I was consorting with Ruby and drinking _demon blood_ … it's no wonder Dean turned to the angel who rescued him from Hell when I couldn't." Sam shrugged, determined not to lose the faith, trust and belief that he had in his big brother no matter what this bastard said.

"Then there was the vampire Benny," Gabriel-Bobby continued, unperturbed by Sam's interruption, amused to see the slight tremor within the youngest Winchester's body, even as he tried to hide the pain that name caused. Benny would _always_ be a name that Sam hated, causing him to feel jealous and hurt.

Sam took a deep, shaky breath and let it out in a rush, shaking his head slightly in denial of those words. "I hit a dog, met a girl and settled down for normal. I _abandoned_ my brother, so it makes sense that Dean would value Benny over me. Benny was there when I wasn't, it's as simple as that."

"Lastly, and my favourite by the way, Dean replaced you with none other than the King of Hell himself, Crowley. Tell me little Sammy, how does it _feel_ to know that Dean, _your_ big brother, your hero, would rather hang out with the King of Hell, than with you?"

Sam swallowed hard, closing his eyes to regather his emotions before he reopened them and faced the imposter once more. "Dean was a demon with no morals or good sense about _who_ he was hanging out with." Sam replied dryly.

"That's not how it happened!" Dean protested. "I didn't choose Crowley over Sam. I left to protect Sam because I knew that being what I was would put a target on Sam's back. I had reasons for all of that. You're making me out to be an insensitive asshole!"

"Am I?" Gabriel-Bobby inquired innocently. "Sorry Dean, that's not my intention here. Tell me Deano, do you know what _really_ happened to little Sammy while you were trapped in Purgatory, chumming around with the angel and vampire?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Warnings:** Harsh language, violence, some physical violence but nothing too graphic, thoughts of self-incrimination.

 **Author's Note:** Not quite sure where this one came from. Not even sure if I like it or not but … it is set just after The Darkness is released. I have no knowledge of spells or how to perform them, so I have just used my imagination.

Well, this chapter took an unexpected turn that I wasn't planning on …. Funny how stories can do that to you. Anyway, hope you all enjoy and working on the next chapter as we speak.

Thank you all for your patience and understanding, and to let you know again, I WILL NOT GIVE UP ON THIS STORY UNTIL IT IS DONE.

Sorry guys, expected to have this out by Friday, but we had internet issues. Never mind, it's all fixed now.

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Wayward-or-Awkward** for your review and your kind words. Fingers crossed that you guys like this. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time out to read this, your support means a lot, thanks.

 **UNFORGIVEN REMEDY**

 **CHAPTER NINE**

"What do you mean?" Dean narrowed his eyes suspiciously, expecting another trap of some kind. He'd always instinctively known that there had been more to "hit a dog and met a girl" but when Sam had said nothing more on the subject, Dean had let it go and not pursued it like he normally would have.

He had been hurt that Sam had left him to rot in Purgatory for a whole year while not even bothering to look for him, letting his hurt and jealously overrule his years of brotherly intuition and instinct that little brother wasn't giving him the full story.

But now, with the Trickster's ominous words ringing in his ears, he regretted not getting to the bottom of it sooner and knew that something else had happed to cause Sam to give up hunting.

"No." Sam said, shaking his head violently from side to side, his voice strong, but Dean could detect the fear and shame within his brother's tone.

"Except you didn't hit that dog right away. You hit it six months _after_ Dean disappeared. What did you do for the first six months Dean disappeared little Sammy?"

"Shut up!" Sam hissed, striding quickly toward the Trickster with purpose, not even sure what he was going to do once he got there.

"Stop calling me Sammy!" Sam yelled, towering over the Gabriel-Bobby intimidatingly. "My name is Sam!" Sam grabbed the imposter by his shirt and pulled him close, lowering his voice so that Dean wouldn't be able to hear what he was saying.

"Dean is _never_ going to find out about that, do you hear me? I will cut out your tongue, stab you in the throat or … _die_ before I ever allow you to tell him about any of that."

Tears instantly prickled within Sam's eyes as he released the imposter, feeling a little guilty for his actions because on the outside this S.O.B still looked like Bobby. "Please don't tell Dean," Sam begged quietly, his bottom lip trembling violently as he fought for control.

"Dean has known for some time that you weren't completely honest with him." Gabriel-Bobby replied, his eyes softening slightly. "I'm sorry Sam, but he needs to know if you guys are going to be in sync again. No more secrets between the two of you."

"But … he'll hate me." Sam whispered fearfully. "He'll be so ashamed that I … please, _please_ don't tell him. I'll do _anything_ you want me to, just don't tell Dean about _that_."

Gabriel-Bobby felt his resolve weaken at the youngest Winchester's infamous puppy-dog eyes. Maybe there should be _some_ secrets between the boys. After all, nobody was truthful all of the time, right? Everyone had their secrets. It was human nature after all.

"Okay Sam," he relented, watching as Dean suddenly swung into action, deciding to charge the imposter in order to save his brother. "But I fear that Dean will find out the truth eventually. I think it would be better coming from you, don't you?"

"I know," Sam moaned miserably. "I just … not yet. I can't tell him yet."

Gabriel-Bobby gave Sam a slight nod of understanding before he placed a hand upon Sam's chest that sent him reeling back into his brother's arms.

"Well, that's unfortunate _little Sammy_ ," he sighed, as if irritated and slightly annoyed. "I'm sorry, you've failed the final test and as a result you will have to face the consequences of your actions."

"Wh-what do you mean?" Sam stammered, Dean's arms supporting him before a wave of agonizing pain and cold over took him and he couldn't help but scream out in pain.

"What are you doing to him?" Dean demanded. "Stop it. Stop it right now!"

"I'm sorry Deano, but I'm afraid I can't do that. The curse has to be completed. One way or another Sam has to die."

"But the curse … Sam had to kill himself in order to complete it." Dean protested. "Sam didn't do that. He didn't kill himself, so –"

"Sorry Dean, I told Sam that he wasn't getting out of here alive and I wasn't lying about that. He's been in this world for too long. His real body is dying and now little Sammy here is dying too. Sorry Dean, there's nothing more that I can do."

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

Dean supported his rigid younger brother as he lowered the two of them to the ground, watching in horror as Sam's hazel eyes rolled into the back of his head, his back arching, his screams and cries tearing at Dean's already fragile heart.

After finally finding a way to get into this world, to see his brother again … it couldn't end like this. It couldn't.

"Sammy," Dean murmured, placing a soothing hand upon his brother's forehead. "I'm here Sammy, I'm right here." Dean reassured his pain-riddled younger brother. "Don't worry little bro, I'm going to save you. I promise I'll save you … even if it's the last thing I do." Dean added under his breath, cradling his brother's head protectively within the crook of his arm.

"Sam, if you can hear me, please know … _believe_ that I have _never_ replaced you with _anyone_." Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You are, and always will be, _my_ little brother and _no one_ can ever take that away from you.

Hell, I sacrificed Benny so that I could get you back. Doesn't that prove how much you mean to me?" Dean choked up on his heart-felt plea to his younger brother, praying that Sam could hear him.

Dean chuckled dryly as he pushed Sam's bangs out of his eyes, everything and everyone else around him forgotten. "Yeah, and I know _exactly_ how you would respond to that. You would roll your eyes at me and give me your infamous bitch face, while blabbering on about some shit that would make _you_ responsible for Benny's demise.

But let me tell ya Sammy, there is nothing and no one that I wouldn't risk or sacrifice in order to save your life. And all of this … _shit_ , this stupid guilt that you've heaped upon yourself … you have to let it go bro, or else it's going to tear you apart and kill you. Trust me, I know."

"De'n … sorry … De'n …" Sam gasped out on a stuttered breath, his eyes focusing upon Dean's worried green eyes hovering above him.

"Hey, there you are," Dean smiled in relief. "You have _nothing_ to be sorry for Sammy. Nothing, do you hear me?"

"I … fuck-ed up … got … Char-lie killed … re-leased … Dark … ness …"

Dean closed his eyes, hating to hear the self-loathing and hatred within his brother's tone. "Yeah, you did." Dean replied softly, knowing that there was nothing he could say or do to absolve Sam of those sins.

"But I would have done the same thing – hell, I probably would have done _worse_ things – if it had been _your_ ass on the line." Dean admitted, looking into Sam's shocked eyes, letting out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding when Sam relaxed just a tiny bit after seeing the truth within Dean's eyes.

"And sure, it seems like a huge mess right now, but Sam, _we_ can work it out. But if you leave me now … I can't do this by myself. I _won't_ do this by myself. So, the sooner you snap out of this, the sooner we can get back to _our_ world, and we can come up with a way to defeat the Darkness and restore everything back to normal."

"Nor-mal … what's th-at?" Sam offered Dean a grimaced smile before he clenched his teeth and hands together as another wave of pain descended upon him.

"Ha … my little brother _thinks_ he's a comedian." Dean remarked dryly, holding Sam closer, recognizing the lines of pain that adorned his brother's features.

Too many times Dean had witnessed his little brother in pain. All of the times Sam had been hurt – both physically and emotionally – Dean knew all of the ways that his baby brother displayed pain. And this, right here, was far worse than Dean had ever seen before.

"It's okay Sammy, I've got you." Dean soothed, his voice surprising steady as Sam's body arched in violent spasms, his mouth wide open, the screams of agony making Sam's voice ragged and hoarse.

Dean gritted his teeth together, consciously willing his hands to stop shaking. It never got any easier seeing his brother hurt or in pain, especially when there was nothing Dean could do to stop it. So, if he couldn't stop his brother from hurting, the least he could do was to be strong for him.

Ten agonizing seconds later, Sam's features relaxed slightly. "Th-at was … a bad … one …" Sam admitted, his voice practically a whisper now. "Th-think I'm … dying … De'n …" he said almost apologetically, readily accepting the fate that now lay before him.

"No." Dean denied loudly. "No, that's not happening today Sammy. No way are you dying on my watch."

Sam's lips twisted into a fond smile. Dean always had to be in control of the situation. He could never accept it when things – like Sam dying for instance – happened. Sam loved Dean for that, but it was time that Dean accepted what was happening here. Sam was dying and there wasn't anything that Dean could do about it.

"So … c-c-cold De'n …" Sam sighed on an exhale. "I'm sorry Dee … but I don't … think … I …"

Dean watched in horror as Sam's eyes closed and the young man that he held in his arms suddenly went lax.

No!

No, this could _not_ happen! Sam was not going to die here … not like this!

"Sam! Sammy, open your eyes!" Dean ordered, his voice sharp with grief and disbelief, shaking his brother's still body in order to get some sort of response from his still sibling. "Sammy, open your eyes, damn it! You are _not_ leaving me, do you understand?"

In an act filled with desperation, Dean slapped Sam's check hard enough to leave a red mark of his hand print upon Sam's pale, rapidly cooling check. But that cruel act got the desired result Dean was after; Sam's eyes flew open as he gasped on a breath, his eyes wide, shocked and fill of hurt.

"That's my boy," Dean said, weak with relief, his voice shaking slightly, his hands trembling so hard that he knew Sam could feel them shaking now, but he didn't care. All that mattered was that Sam had opened his eyes. He was still alive; and for that, Dean was eternally grateful. As long as Sam was still alive, it meant that Dean could keep fighting for him, he could still save Sam and set this right.

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

"S'rry De'n … m-my … f-fault … all my … f-fault … everythin' … my …" Sam's mumbled confession died off as Sam drew in a ragged breath, his chest rattling like an old man who had spent his life smoking cigarettes.

Feverish. Sam was feverish, even as his body continued to cool and Dean could do nothing but hold his shaking brother in his arms, offering reassurances that Dean wasn't even sure Sam could hear anymore.

"No Sammy, no. It's not your fault." Dean whispered, on the verge of tears now. But even if Sam no longer heard what Dean was saying or knew that Dean was with him, Dean would not give into his emotions right now. Dean had to be strong for his little brother, no matter what.

"Sorry to disappoint you kiddo, but you're not the only one who's made mistakes." Dean drew in a deep shuddering breath, relocking his emotions back up, smiling down fondly at his brother, a touch of bitter sarcasm in his tone now. "I've made my fair share of mistakes too little brother. I should have trusted you and supported you instead of listening to the angels, Benny or Crowley. I should have been there for you Sam instead of distancing myself.

I'm sorry, but … I only ever saw the little brother I had _raised_ falling into darkness. I wanted to protect you, keep you safe … but I never gave you a chance to tell me what was going on. I never trusted you or your instincts.

Hell … changed me Sammy; left me raw and vulnerable. And the guilt I had of what I had done … I didn't cope; _couldn't_ cope. And every time you tried to help me … I lashed out at you, distancing myself because … I didn't want you _infected_ with the darkness that I'd brought back with me."

Dean sighed softly, regretfully. "I'm sorry Sammy, so sorry, but … we can get past this. We can get past everything that's happened, but I _need_ you with me Sam, I need you fighting by my side or else … what's the point?"

"I'm sorry Deano, but little Sammy hasn't got much time left. If you like, I can send you back so you don't have to witness the death of your little brother."

Dean jumped at Gabriel-Bobby's voice, completely forgetting that the Trickster-arch-angel-imposter was here with them.

Dean tightened his hold upon Sam protectively, shaking his head violently at Gabriel's words, his lips curling into a snarl. No one was going to take Sam away from him, no one.

"No. Sam stays with me."

"Okay Dean, if that's what you want." Gabriel-Bobby replied gently as he took a step back to give the brothers space.

"Wait." Dean met Gabriel-Bobby's eyes, his own expression turning into a Sam Winchester "puppy-dog" look. "Please, can't you _do_ something to stop this? Let Sam live and I will do whatever you want, I swear. Just please … _please_ don't take Sammy from me."

Gabriel-Bobby's eyes softened and if Dean didn't know any better, he'd swear that he saw regret within those eyes. "I'm sorry Dean," the imposter shook his head. "But there's nothing more that I can do. Sam failed the test and now he has to pay the consequences of that failure."

"What test?!" Dean demanded angrily. "This wasn't a bloody test! And how could Sam have passed it when the damn _curse_ was rigged for Sam to fail, no matter what he did."

"That's true." The Trickster conceded with a sympathetic smile, recognizing Dean's anger for what it really was; desperation. "But I'm not talking about that. Sam hasn't been completely honest with you Dean. And until he can admit that to you –"

"Are you talking about the thing that happened while I was Purgatory?" Dean couldn't help but interrupt. "I don't care about that. I don't care that Sam has kept that secret."

"Really?" Gabriel-Bobby interjected quietly. "It seems to me that _secrets_ are what have caused you two to lose faith in each other." He eyed Dean carefully before he grinned mischievously. "Besides, you don't think _that_ is the only secret little Sammy's been keeping from you, do you Deano?"

Dean hesitated, considering Gabriel-Bobby's words before he shook his head. "I don't care." Dean declared stubbornly. "It doesn't matter. That's all in the past now. And if Sam failed the honesty test, then so have I. There are still things that I haven't told Sam about either."

"Yes." Gabriel-Bobby agreed. "That's true. But the difference between the two of you Dean is that you are more willing to be honest with, not only your brother, but yourself as well."

Gabriel's eyes flicked down to Sam before returning his gaze back to Dean. "There's no doubt that the two of you have regained _some_ of the lost trust and belief in each other that you once had. And that's a fantastic start, but that's only part of this test … lesson."

"What's the other part?"

"To have faith and belief in _yourself_. And you Deano … while you take the world's problems upon your shoulders, you have never doubted yourself. You've always _believed_ that you can protect Sam and do that job to the best of your ability, no matter what life has thrown at you.

Sam on the other hand … little Sammy lost belief in himself a long time ago. If he doesn't _share_ his secrets with you and break the self-destructing cycle that began the moment Azazel entered his nursery when he was six-months old … then the same things are going to keep repeating over and over again like a broken record.

If you guys can't _fix_ this, yourselves and each other, then I fear that even if you _do_ defeat the Darkness and avert another Apocalypse – another evil that Sam Winchester set loose upon the world – that the two of you will become distant strangers with nothing left to give to the world, each other or even yourselves. If this continues, I fear not only what will happen to the two of you, but what will become of the world."

Dean felt a smile twitch at the corner of his lips because in a roundabout, fucked up way, Gabriel had been just trying to help them. Trying to make them appreciate, not only each other, but themselves as well.

Who would have thought that the Trickster-arch-angel-imposter-Bobby would turn into a damn therapist for the Winchester siblings? Maybe the arch-angel did care about them after all. But he had to realize that killing Sam was _not_ going to solve their issues. It would only make things worse. And getting over their trust issues with each other as well as themselves, was going to take longer than a one-night session.

"I get that you mean well," Dean began, his voice steady even as his green eyes grew wider, pleading with Gabriel to believe him. "But if you take Sam from me … if Sam dies here today … I will have nothing left to fight for and I will go on suicidal hunts, becoming reckless and careless, which will eventually get me killed."

Dean paused, watching as Gabriel-Bobby's eyes narrowed suspiciously at Dean's not so subtle threat. " _I_ can get through to Sam. _I_ can help him to trust and believe in himself again … I promise. But I can't do that if he dies here tonight.

Please _Gabriel_ , give me a chance – give Sam a chance – to prove to you that even though we may be broken at the moment, we can get better, become the men we once were and defeat the Darkness once and for all. All that I'm asking for is a chance."

Gabriel sighed loudly, throwing his hands up in good-natured frustration. "Well, guess my secret identity is out of the bag now." With a click of his fingers, the Bobby image vanished, leaving only the arch-angel Gabriel in its wake. "When did you guess it was me?" he asked in surprise. "I thought I did a good job of disguising myself."

"You did." Dean chucked dryly. "I wasn't completely convinced it was _you_ until just now. So, does that mean you'll let us go? Let Sam live?"

Gabriel hesitated as he glanced down upon Dean's desperate, hopeful, pleading expression. "I don't know Deano. How do I know that the two of you have really learned your lesson?"

Dean felt his heart crash down to the bottom of his feet in despair. He didn't know what else he could say to make Gabriel see how wrong it was to take Sam away from him.

So, if logic wouldn't work on the arch-angel – and as suicidal as it was to do this to one of the most powerful beings Dean had ever met – Dean didn't have any other choice except to threaten this ex-arch-angel of the Lord, as only Dean Winchester could when in big brother protective mode.

Before Dean could open his mouth to threaten the not-so-dead arch-angel, a booming, commanding voice that Dean would instantly recognize anywhere, filled the room, causing Dean to stiffen while instinctively pulling his brother closer toward him reflectively, protectively, not knowing what to expect as John Winchester came into Dean's line of sight.

"That's enough Gabriel, you've made your point. Now how 'bout you send _both_ of my boys' home before I do that thing I promised you I would do if you pushed this little experiment of yours too far."

Gabriel froze, a scared look coming across his features before he shrugged that smug smile that Dean now hated with a passion, appeared upon the former Trickster's lips. "Easy Johnny-boy," Gabriel held up his hands in mock surrender. "Our business here has just concluded."

"Aha." John raised his eyebrows skeptically. "So, tell me why it looks as though Sammy is about to die and Dean is about to rip your lungs out?"

Gabriel squeaked in surprise. "Shit," he muttered, placing two fingers against Sam's forehead. "I forgot. Guess I got a little carried away, caught up in the moment of getting into character." Gabriel apologized, removing his fingers from Sam's forehead, holding out a hand to calm the older Winchester sibling because Gabriel had _dared_ to touch his beloved little Sammy.

"There you go Deano and Johnny-boy, little Sammy's all fixed now. Now, all I have to do is zap them both back and –"

"Wait." John interrupted Gabriel. "Can you give me a couple of minutes here?"

Gabriel looked between John, Dean and then Sam – who was just beginning to stir and open his eyes – seeing a slight nod from Dean before Castiel nodded at John. "Five minutes Johnny, and no funny business or I _will_ send you back to where I found you." Gabriel said sternly before he disappeared, leaving the three Winchester men alone for the first time in years.

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

Sam Winchester was burning up.

The blinding, burning sensation flowing into every part of his body almost simultaneously, causing Sam's body to arch and buckle in protest.

Screaming.

Sam Winchester wasn't sure if he was screaming out loud, the way he was within his own mind; wanting, pleading, _begging_ for this pain to stop … and, in a last-ditch effort to preserve his sanity, he had no qualms about begging for his own death.

Gabriel had promised him an agonizing death, and true to his word, that's exactly what Sam was experiencing right now.

Sam couldn't recall ever feeling so _hot_ , as if his whole body, his organs and insides were boiling away, being eaten up by the fire that was consuming him and raging through his system … well, maybe that was a lie, an exaggeration of the truth because Sam had felt this way when was completing the Trials to close the gates of Hell forever.

But that had happened gradually than this, at least giving Sam's body a small chance to get used to and adapt slightly to the changes his body was undergoing. But this … this was on a whole different level altogether.

" _Hell,"_ Sam thought blearily. That's the closest he could come to describing the excruciating burning sensation he was feeling, it was similar to Hell.

Sam quickly closed his mind to the images of Hell because the last thing he wanted or needed right now as to be bombarded by what two warring pissed off arch-angel brothers had put him through because Sam had the audacity to ruin their plans for Armageddon.

Sam shuddered violently as he forced himself to focus upon something other than Hell; his body slowly being consumed by the fire that raged within him, his body trembling, his teeth chattering, the fine hairs on his arms rising, giving way to goose bumps, his body contradicting his minds interpretation of burning up.

According to Sam's body, he was _cold_ , freezing, the bone-chilling kind of cold you got when you were close to becoming hypothermic.

Sam felt the bitter, hysterical laugh bubbling up inside of him, but all that came out of him was a pitiful kind of half-moan, half-sob. How could Sam be _both_ burning up and freezing to death at the same time?!

But that was exactly what was happening. The fire within heated Sam's blood, running through his veins, causing such agony that Sam wouldn't be surprised if his organs had all turned into a gooey mess because of the heat that was travelling through his system; but at the same time, the outer extremities of Sam's body was cooling fast; the bone numbing cold reaching into Sam's core, his body shivering violently in order to warm itself up.

" _I'm dying,"_ Sam thought numbly, shocked by how calm his felt about that knowledge. Because maybe it was time for him to die. After everything he had _done_ … maybe this agonizing, brutal death was what he deserved.

Sam wanted to fall off of the chasm, give up and give into his inevitable death, but through the pain and tremors that tore throughout Sam's body, he could hear Dean begging him not to give up; that they could get through everything that had happened between them as long as Sam kept fighting … kept living.

Dean.

Sam loved his big brother more than anyone else he had ever loved or cared about in his sorry excuse of a life – and that included Jessica Moore.

Dean, who had been his father, his mother, his big brother, his best friend, his _rock_ , his everything … didn't want Sam to leave him, didn't want Sam to give up, was begging for Sam to just hold on … And God knows, the last thing in the world that Sam ever wanted to do was to hurt his big brother any more than he already had but …

Sam didn't know if he had the strength to fight this. He didn't know if he could even recover from this even if he did have the means at his disposal to beat this. He didn't know if he had the _courage_ to live anymore.

But … Dean …

Sam couldn't disappoint him again. Sam didn't want to hurt him again. And if there was one person in his life who Sam could always find the strength to fight for … it was his big brother.

And just like that, Sam decided to _fight_. As feeble and pathetic as it might be, Sam would fight for his life. Sam didn't have much in this fucked up world that he lived in, but he had always had Dean.

Dean would never _abandon_ him or give up on him, even if Sam hadn't returned the sentiments. He may not have the strength to fight for himself … but he would always have the strength to fight for his brother.

 **SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW**

Sam felt a searing pain upon his forehead and then everything vanished. The burning pain within his body disappeared almost as if it had never been there in the first place and was just a product of Sam's over-active imagination.

Sam's body stopped it's excessive shivering, no longer feeling on the verge of death; alive and rejuvenated.

"Just remember little Sammy, I am giving you this slight reprieve because your big brother _assures_ me that the two of you can change." Gabriel's voice resounded within Sam's mind.

"You need to tell him Sam." Gabriel continued, his voice softening slightly even as his tone remained commanding. "He _deserves_ to know what happened to you and _why_ you stopped looking for him.

I am willing to end this little charade and send you both back to your world, but you have to give me something in return." Gabriel told Sam and Sam knew by Gabriel's tone that this would be non-negotiable and something Sam was not going to like.

"There are two secrets that you've withheld from Dean that you can tell Dean about. Even though you have more secrets than these two … I figured that these two are the ones that will help you and Dean reconnect with each other.

You can tell Dean why you stopped looking for him when he was in Purgatory or you can share with him the phone message that you've kept for the last six years.

You need to come clean with Dean about _one_ of these secrets within the next twenty-four hours or … I will create a world specifically for _Dean_ , if you get my meaning …"

Sam couldn't help the shudder that ran through the length of his body at Gabriel's barely disguised threat toward his brother.

"The other secret that you don't tell Dean about in the next twenty-four hours will need to revelled to Dean within the next six months. Once you have shared these two secrets with your brother, I will know that you are true to your world and maybe you two knuckle-heads can become _brothers_ once again.

Your decision little Sammy about which one you reveal to Dean tonight. And just remember, if you try to renege on our deal or try to trap me or trick me … the repercussions will be disastrous for the _both_ of you. I'll be watching you little Sammy …."

Damn.

Gabriel had left Sam with no means to escape this. Sam would have to tell Dean both the phone message that Sam had kept for the past six years or the reason why Sam had given up hunting when Dean had been trapped in Purgatory.

"The message," Sam mumbled, knowing that the secret concerning the phone message he had saved for over half a decade would be far easier to explain than why he had stopped hunting and looking for his brother.

Both of these secrets were painful for Sam, and both of them had left emotional scars that Sam had never quite recovered from, but the phone message wouldn't hurt as much as the other secret.

"I'll tell Dean about the phone message," Sam promised Gabriel. And the next thing Sam knew, he opened his eyes to see familiar worried green eyes hovering over him.

Dean.

Sam relaxed enough that he even managed to offer Dean a smile and Sam could see the relief shinning within his big brother's eyes.

"Welcome back Sammy," Dean grinned weakly, noticing his brother's alert and pain free hazel eyes.

"You didn't think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?" Sam couldn't help but tease his brother, and relaxed further when he heard Dean snort with surprised laughter.

"I haven't been able to shake you off since you learned how to walk and decided to follow me everywhere." Dean retorted good-naturedly.

And the heavy, anxious feeling that had settled within the pit of Dean's stomach when Sam had fallen upon the ground in the library of the Men of Letters Bunker, finally began to ease and lift, knowing for sure now that Sam would be okay. Sam was going to live and that was all Dean had ever wanted for his baby brother.

THE END …. Just kidding, as if I would leave out the reunion between father and sons! I'll keep you all updated soon.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Warnings:** Harsh language, violence, some physical violence but nothing too graphic, thoughts of self-incrimination.

 **Author's Note:** Not quite sure where this one came from. Not even sure if I like it or not but … it is set just after The Darkness is released. I have no knowledge of spells or how to perform them, so I have just used my imagination.

This was supposed to be the last chapter. Father and sons have a happy reunion, Sam confesses one of his secrets to Dean and the Winchester's live happily ever after. But the Winchesters are complicated, and they have _a lot_ of issues to work through, so unfortunately, I'm going to have carry on and keep you all in suspense for a while longer.

Thank you all for your patience and understanding, and to let you know again, I WILL NOT GIVE UP ON THIS STORY UNTIL IT IS DONE.

 **Special Note:** Thanks to everyone who has taken the time out to read this or favourite it or put it on alert, your support means a lot, thanks.

 **UNFORGIVEN REMEDY**

 **CHAPTER TEN**

"How are you feeling?" Dean asked, running an anxious, critical eye over his younger brother as he helped Sam to his feet.

"Better," Sam responded immediately, swatting Dean's hands away when Dean went to steady him. "You can stop "mother-henning" me now Dean. Promise I won't keel over and hit my head again." Sam grinned, the teasing twinkle still within his eyes, letting Dean know he wasn't as mad as he pretended to be.

"Yeah, right. Like I'm going to take _your_ word for it." Dean scoffed lightly, lowering his hovering hands to his side once his brother remained standing and steady at his side.

Sam blinked, looking around in confusion when he realized that they were still in the world Gabriel had created for him and not back in the Men of Letters Bunker, _their_ world.

From the way Gabriel had spoken to Sam within his mind before Sam had regained consciousness; the no argument tone, filled with authority, conviction and no more compromises to be had, Sam had figured that it was the end of their little adventure/lesson/test – whatever the hell it was Gabriel was trying to install in them – and he would have zapped them back to their world.

Sam had agreed to Gabriel's terms and conditions, he had agreed to reveal those two secrets to Dean – even though he was dreading telling Dean about the Purgatory one – so why the hell were they still _here_?

Panic gripped at Sam's heart, even as he tried to supress it, hoping and praying that there was a valid reason as to why Gabriel was delaying in sending them back home.

"Dean, what's going on? Why are we still here?" Sam asked, not quite concealing the panic within his voice as he turned to look at Dean expectantly; expecting, like always, for Dean to _know_ exactly what was going on; because his big brother _always_ knew what was going on.

"Please tell me that we aren't stuck here." Sam pleaded in a desperate tone, not giving Dean a chance to respond to his original questions, the panic beginning to overwhelm and consume him despite his best efforts to keep it at bay.

"Oh God Dean, I don't want to be stuck here." Sam wailed, his patience, endurance and his very sanity at its limit now. If Sam didn't get out of here soon, he feared that he would crack into a million pieces and no one – not even Dean – would ever be able to put the pieces back together again.

"Relax Sammy, take a breath," Dean said in a calming, soothing tone, immediately recognizing the stark terror and panic within his little brother's eyes. This poor kid had been put through the ringer and he was dead on his feet.

Not that Dean could blame him. After everything Sam had witnessed and been through in this crazy, bizzaro world, after having everyone you loved turn against you, it was no wonder Sam was eager to get out of this world. Dean wanted out too, but their Dad … Dean chanced a side-long glance at his father, not knowing if Sam could handle their reunion.

What the John of _this_ world had put his little brother through … and in the panicked state that Sam was in … Dean wasn't sure if Sam would be able to handle the shock of seeing their dead father once again.

"Gabriel promised. He said that if I agreed to his terms and I told you about the phone message, he would let us go back to our world."

Dean frowned at the almost hysterical quality within his brother's tone. If Dean didn't get a handle on Sam's panic, there was no doubt in Dean's mind that Sam would either hyperventilate or succumb to a rare panic attack that Sam could have when he was emotionally drained, frightened or scared. Or – knowing the Winchester luck – Sam could exhibit _both_ a panic attack and hyperventilate at the same time.

"Easy little bro, we're not stuck here, okay?" Dean tried to soothe his agitated younger brother. "Gabriel _will_ return us to our world and … wait a minute. You struck a deal with Gabriel?"

Sam bobbed his head up and down erratically, his eyes wide, pupils blown as if Sam had taken a heavy dose of drugs – even though Dean knew that this kid had never touched drugs in his life (except the demon blood, but that didn't count as drugs, did it?) – but Dean knew, after years of looking out for this kid, that Sam was hitting his dangerous panic levels now.

After this stage, Sam would descend quickly through the ranks of his flight or fight response – Sammy always tried to flee when he was wound up like this – followed closely by difficulty breathing when he realized there was no escape, and then he would enter full on melt-down mode, closing in on himself, his fear and panic consuming him to such a degree that even Dean had a hard time reaching him at this point.

Dean had to calm Sam down, and he had to do it now. And the only other way Dean knew how to calm Sam down – other than knocking his little brother out cold – was to get him to talk. It didn't matter what about. All that mattered was Sam hearing Dean's voice and the conversation helping to distract Sam from the overwhelming panic he was experiencing enough for Sam to be able to break down the barriers and return to Dean before he hit critical melt-down mode.

"What deal little bro?" Dean repeated softly, grabbing Sam's chin in between his fingers and redirected Sam's gaze onto him. "Please don't tell me you did something stupid like sell your soul for me." Dean half-joked, half-pleaded.

He honestly didn't think Gabriel was into pimping people's souls. But it had been _years_ since the brothers had seen him and who knew what kinky stuff the ex-trickster turned arch-angel would be into now.

"No. Nothing like that." Sam replied, his eyes finding Dean's briefly before he averted his eyes from Dean once more.

Dean couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief at that, thankful that his little brother hadn't been foolish enough to trade his soul for Dean's life. "Well then, little brother, why don't you tell me what it is an arch-angel would be interested in? What kind of deal did you two make?" Dean tried to keep his tone even, level and light, knowing from first-hand experience that Sam responded better to calm than he did to anger.

Sam frowned slightly as he had to think over Dean's questions in his mind and Dean felt himself relax a little. Because if Sam had to think about something else, that meant he had less time to worry and broad over his fear and panic.

"It …" Sam licked his suddenly too dry lips, trying to process the information that Dean wanted. "I had to tell you two secrets that I've kept hidden from you for various reasons and one of them I had to tell you about tonight."

Sam paused, his eyes finally returning to Dean's and Dean breathed a little easier when a more clear and calmer look appeared within those familiar hazel eyes instead of the instant raw panic that he been within them only moments ago.

"He gave me two secrets which I _have_ to tell you about. The phone message and the P-Purgatory thing." Sam paled slightly at the mention of Purgatory, swallowing hard to get his erratic and wildly swinging emotions under control.

"One I have to tell you within the next twenty-four hours and the other one … he's given me a little grace period. Gabriel said that I needed to _prove_ to him that I could change and that telling you would be the first step in achieving that."

"Okay." Dean nodded as if this whole conversation made perfect sense to him, which it did not, but knowing not to confuse Sam too much when he was this close to giving into his own fears and panic.

"I decided to tell you about the phone message first." Sam blinked and Dean was further rewarded by Sam's pupils beginning to lose their dilated form and return to normal, further proof that Sam was now beginning to win over his turbulent emotions. "But Gabriel said he would _return_ us, so … _why_ are we still here?"

"I'm sorry Sammy, but that's my fault. I asked Gabriel to give us five minutes before he sent you boys back." John's gruff voice spoke up before Dean even had a chance to respond.

Dean closed his eyes, muttering sharp curses under his breath, hoping that the sound of their dead father's voice wouldn't send Sam's emotional walls tumbling down, leaving Dean to deal with an out of control, panicked little brother.

A sharp gasp from behind him had Dean reopening his eyes and quickly assessing his brother to determine if Sam needed to get out of here now. Dean was pleasantly surprised to notice that while Sam's eyes had widened in disbelief, there was none of the raw panic that had consumed them earlier.

Damn this kid was one _strong_ son of a bitch, Dean thought proudly. How many other people could go through what he had today and still keep going without losing their fucking minds?

"D-Dad? Wh-what are you doing here?" Sam looked between John and Dean with shocked confusion and Dean couldn't help but notice the amused smirk that twitched at the corners of John Winchester's lips at his youngest son's obvious bewilderment.

Dean could feel his own lips twitch, more with nervous relief than actual amusement, until Sam's eyes met Dean's and Dean saw something within Sam's eyes that he didn't like.

There weren't many times in the brothers' lives that Dean couldn't read his baby brother's expressive hazel eyes. But the few times that he couldn't, those were the times when Sam could truly shock Dean to his very core at what was going through Sam's head.

Dean eyed Sam nervously, watching as a calm resignation entered Sam's eyes, his body language sagging dejectedly, swallowing convulsively and Dean immediately saw the tension within his little brother's shoulders.

"Dad," Sam sighed out on an exhale, his tone sad but accepting at the same time. "Are you here to kill me?"

John Winchester's amusement vanished in an instant at Sam's question, noticing how serious Sam was, glancing at Dean inquisitively, hoping that Dean could explain why Sam would ask such a question.

Dean was stunned into silence for a few moments before the answer finally became obvious to him as to why Sam would think that John had returned just to kill him. "Oh Sammy, no. This isn't … this is _our_ Dad."

Sam blinked at Dean blankly for several seconds before an irritated look crossed Sam's features and Dean almost wanted to cheer at the sight of the slight "bitch-face" his younger brother was giving him.

"I _know_ that Dean." Sam replied dismissively, impatiently. It hadn't taken Sam long to figure out that this wasn't the _John_ of _this_ world who had tortured him, trying to beat the evil out of him and had wanted to kill him.

 _His_ Dad had a whole different look than the John of _this_ world and the key was the dark eyes that now stared at Sam. They weren't fill of fear, hate and shame that had been in _this_ John's eyes; these eyes were fill of love, pride and mild amusement. But within the depths of his father's eyes, Sam thought he could detect disappointment and sadness within his Dad's eyes.

And just like that, the answer to his Dad's arrival here suddenly became obvious. John was here to put Sam out of his misery. He'd obviously had enough of Sam's constant screw-ups and had come here to perform a mercy killing upon his youngest son. And Sam wouldn't fight him this time. As long as Dean wasn't hurt, Sam would accept the gift his father was now offering him.

Sam didn't want to die … but, if his Dad was here to kill him, then who was he to argue with that?

Gabriel had promised that he would send the brothers back to their world, but this behaviour was typical of the former Trickster – give you a little taste of freedom only to yank it away from you at the last second.

Still, if Sam was to die here today, he couldn't help the feeling of relief that settled over him as he realized that his deal with Gabriel was now void and Sam wouldn't have to follow through with telling Dean _any_ of his secrets, least of all the Purgatory one.

"Sammy," Dean's hand grabbed onto Sam's lower arm, jolting Sam back to the present as he turned to look at his big brother's confused frown, his green eyes filled with worry and concern. "If you know that this is _our_ Dad, why the hell would you think he's here to kill you?"

Sam gave Dean an incredulous isn't-it-obvious look. "Because I was the one who caused Dad's death." He answered honestly and simply.

Dean's frown deepened, not understanding his younger brother's logic or how he could even consider himself responsible for their Dad's death when it was the yellow-eyed son of a bitch demon who was responsible for their Dad's untimely death … as well as their mother's.

The demon.

Ah, now Sam's faulty logic made sense to him as Dean suddenly realized _why_ Sam thought he was responsible for their Dad's death.

The demon; the evil son of a bitch who had killed their mother and propelled their Dad – and the brothers themselves – into the line of work of being hunters and hunting all things that were evil and went bump in the night.

Sam considered himself responsible for their mother's death because the demon had come into Sam's nursery only to drip demon blood into his unsuspecting baby brother, all for the soul purpose of turning Sam evil by using the psychic powers the demon blood had bestowed upon him, preparing him to lead an army of demons, all so he would be strong enough to contain the greatest evil to have walked the Earth, Lucifer himself.

So, anything that was yellow-eyed demon related, Sam could twist and turn it to make himself responsible for it.

Dean rolled his eyes and only barely resisted the urge to clip his brother around the back of his head. Because … seriously? How the hell could Sam think that he was responsible for _everything_ that yellow-eyed bastard demon had done to not only their family, but to other people's families as well?

Sam was supposed to be the smart one in the family, but sometimes … his little brother could be so _stupid_ in heaping all of that irrational guilt and blame upon his shoulders.

And that, right there, was what pissed Dean off the most about his baby brother. He _held_ onto things that he should have let go of a long time ago. And yeah, Dean had to admit that he, himself, had made some matters worse by rubbing his brother's nose in things, bringing some things up over and over from time to time over the years when Dean was hurting and wanted to hurt his brother back the only way he knew how.

But, at the end of the day, Sam would _always_ be his little brother and Dean would _always_ stand beside him and protect him no matter what happened. And Dean realized that he had to drum _that_ truth into his little brother's thick head; that Dean would stick by Sam no matter what.

Dean opened his mouth to offer his brother a snarky retort to Sam's unfounded guilt and blame, but before he could, John Winchester placed a hand upon Sam's shoulder, directing Sam's attention away from Dean and onto their father.

Sam couldn't help the involuntary flinch when John placed his hand upon Sam's shoulder and he couldn't help but notice the flash of hurt that flickered within their father's dark eyes before it was gone, Sam trying to stand his ground and not run as his mind was screaming at him to do.

Sam had spent too much time in this world, with this _other_ John. And even though he knew that _his_ Dad wouldn't hurt him, it was hard to convince his mind of that.

John held Sam's eyes within his own, squeezing gently upon his youngest son's shoulder, learning closer toward him before a soft, warm smile briefly graced his lips. "You have _nothing_ to do with my death Sammy," John told Sam in his no-nonscience-authoritative tone of voice. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes Sir," Sam muttered automatically, quickly lowering his eyes from his father's forth-right stare, least John notice the tears of shame and guilt that had begun to gather within the corners of Sam's eyes.

John let out an irritated huff, knowing that Sam didn't believe him and blamed himself for John's death. John ducked down to meet and hold his youngest son's guilt-ridden eyes, his own dark eyes showing nothing but conviction and truth. "I have never blamed you for your mother's death or anything that yellow-eyed son of a bitch demon has done to this family because _you are not responsible for any of it_. You didn't _choose_ this Sammy … _none_ of _us_ chose this. The only to blame for _any_ of this is that yellow-eyed demon. And we killed that son of a bitch years ago. We got our revenge and we avenged your mother's death."

John eyed his youngest son closely, his expression softening slightly as he gave Sam's shoulder a soothing, comforting squeeze. "You are not to blame for any of this. Do you understand me Sammy?"

Sam swallowed hard, blinking back the tears of gratitude that threatened to fall because in his father's eyes, he saw no condemnation, accusations or blame, and that did more to relieve Sam's guilt than he had thought possible. To know that his Dad didn't blame him for any of this was a huge weight lifted from his shoulders. Now all he had to do was to believe it himself.

"Yes Sir," Sam managed to choke out, his voice hoarse with emotion.

John looked at Sam for several long seconds before he nodded, satisfied with the look that was now in his youngest son's eyes. "Good." He smiled, giving Sam's shoulder one final squeeze before he let go and took half a step back in order to get Dean within his eyeline, a smile of love and pride upon his lips as he looked upon his boys and the men that they had become.

"I'm sure you have lots of questions," John continued. "About why I'm here and how I got here."

"Not really. I figured Gabriel had a hand in bringing you here."

John Winchester couldn't help but chuckle in surprised approval. Neither of his sons had lost their touch; Sam quickly reaching the correct conclusion of the facts that were laid out before him, far too many emotions showing within the depths of his hazel eyes; while Dean stood close to Sam, his posture tense, his green eyes wary and distrustful – even when he wanted to believe in what he was seeing was real – like a pit bull in attack mode, fully embraced within his protective big brother mode.

Dean.

Always the provider, the peace-maker, the protector, the … _heart_ of this family. He was the glue that held all of them together, the back-bone, the one that was taken for granted, always expected to be there and to have their backs.

Sammy.

Always the inquisitive one, the analytical one, the researcher, the … _soul_ of this family. He was the one who questioned everything, saw things from different angles, he was the conscience, going through every scenario, making sure there wasn't a better solution to their problems – even though nine times out of ten, John overruled his youngest son's judgement, not willing to budge in the game plan of whatever they were hunting at the time.

John looked at his two boys and could be prouder of the men they had become. "Trust Sammy to get straight to the point." He smiled fondly. "But yes, Gabriel did bring me back."

"Why?" Dean asked, instantly suspicious, expecting another trick of some kind from the mischievous arch-angel.

"Because he needed a link to you boys in order to track you down. Any blood relative would have done the job, either living or dead. I agreed to help him on the condition that he didn't take this … experiment of his too far and to be given the chance to talk with you one last time.

John took a deep breath and let it out slowly, seeing the identical looks of stunned disbelief upon his boys' expressions. If he was expecting Dean and Sam to be pleased with his revelation, then he was sadly mistaken because Dean especially, was starting to feel _pissed off_.

All of _this_ … all of the worry Dean had experienced for his brother, all the … _bullshit_ Sam had been through in _this world_ , created specifically for him by none other than the ex-trickster, turned arch-angel Gabriel, had been some kind of _experiment_? And their Dad had agreed to it, had gone along with Gabriel's ludicrously, outrageously, dangerously _stupid_ plan all so he could talk to Dean and Sam one last time?!

What the hell was _wrong_ with this man? Did he even _know_ what Sam had suffered through in _this_ world? Did he help Gabriel plan this whole fucked-up version of bizzaro land? Or had he just turned a blind eye and let Gabriel do as he pleased, only concerned with his chance to talk to his boys one last time?

Dean's teeth clamped together, breathing through his nose in order to try and calm his raging emotions, remembering; seeing and _experiencing_ the pain, torment and abusiveness _this_ world had bestowed upon his emotionally distraught younger sibling; the doubt and self-hatred manifesting within his brother's expressive hazel eyes when he realized, with dawning horror, that the demon had won again; Sam using the powers given to him by the demon to _kill_ their father, embracing the darkness within him because everyone he had loved, trusted and relied upon had turned against him one after the other and left him with no choice, other than to follow the path laid out before him or … to shoot himself in the fucking head to end his misery once and for all.

Dean's hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, his breathing becoming heavier the angrier he became just _thinking_ about the emotional scars his baby brother would have because of this experience, all because their Dad wanted to talk to them one more time.

What kind of fucked-up logic was that?

Sam had already been on a downward spiral _before_ this had happened, blaming himself for releasing the Darkness as well as other scars and guilt from the past which had been brought to the surface because Sam _thought_ he had failed his big brother yet again.

How the hell was Sam going to be _after_ this was all over and done with? If either Gabriel or Dad thought that Sam would escape from the experience with little or no back-lash, then the two of them were sadly mistaken and neither of them knew Dean's little brother at all.

Sam, as if he could sense his older brother's rising agitation, moved closer to Dean, their shoulders bumping against each other as Sam offered his support and his unconditional acceptance of his big brother the only way he knew how, bumping Dean's shoulder softly in an attempt to inquiry if Dean was all right.

Dean managed to offer Sam a tentative, strained smile that was more of a grimace before he turned his raging green eyes back toward their father.

John Winchester watched the silent communication between his sons before his oldest son's green eyes bored into him and John couldn't help but swallow convulsively and nervously in the face of Dean's deadly reproachful glare.

"I am sensing a bit of … frustration from you Dean," John said, hoping to break the tension with a bit of humour, but Dean wasn't about to let his father off the hook that easily.

"Frustration," Dean scoffed out the word. "I guess you could say that. Pissed off and fucked off would be more accurate though." Dean announced dryly, deadly serious.

John blinked, surprised by his older boy's venomous tone and scathing words. "Why Dean? I thought you would like the chance to talk to me one more time. I know that I have a lot to answer for; and I'm sure that you have lots of questions for me, but we don't have time for any of that. We are running out of time and I have a lot to tell you. Both of you." John added, looking from Dean to Sam pointedly, his tone solemn, his expressions serious. "Sammy, can you give me and your brother a few minutes?"

Sam looked surprised and shocked for a heartbeat before he nodded, lowering his eyes as he prepared to move away to give his father and older brother some privacy.

But before Sam's eyes dropped, Dean could see the hurt, humiliation and shame shinning within the depths of Sam's eyes. Now Sam thought that he wasn't good enough to be included in one of John Winchester's infamous lectures. Now he thought that Dad was ashamed of him, was politely getting him out of the way so that John could talk to the more reasonable, level-headed, obedient son … his favourite son, Dean Winchester.

And Dean felt his temper spike even more at that knowledge as he pulled Sam back beside him, looking up at his father defiantly. "Sam stays with me." Dean growled out protectively. "You have something to say to me, you can say it to him too. Me and Sam are a package deal, Dad."

John looked slightly irritated, a loud huff of annoyance escaping him at Dean's stubborn, defiant act. He had expected Dean to be the reasonable one. After all, Dean had been the one who had followed John Winchester's orders without question or hesitation. He hadn't expected Dean to be the rebellious one here. Dean was the one who was supposed to talk Sam around, but now …

"No, it's okay Dean," Sam's soft voice broke through the tension in the air. "I don't mind leaving." Sam gave Dean his most pleading, puppy-eyed expression, trying to convey to Dean that it was okay for him to step aside and leave Dean and Dad alone to talk, but Dean could see the hurt desperation within his younger brother's eyes.

This poor kid just wanted to be included. To be treated like an equal, an adult. And here Dad was, unknowingly belittling Sam by excluding him from the conversation between the two older Winchesters.

"Stay Sammy," Dean ordered softly, squeezing his brother's arm gently, reassuringly. "You're a part of this family too. Whatever Dad has to say, he can tell us together, okay Sam?"

Sam searched Dean's eyes and expression for a long time before he nodded his acceptance, swallowing back his emotions as he stood beside his brother and managed to look their Dad in the eyes without looking away out of shame, guilt or remorse.

And Dean again, was reminded of the strength his little brother possessed as Sam faced up to the things that scared him most, causing those conflicting emotions within him.

Because no matter what Sam said, Dean knew that experiencing the John in _this_ world and then coming face to face with their _real_ Dad was seriously messing his baby brother up.

Seeing Sam being so strong and facing up to the look alike person – even though it was an alternate John – who had abused and tortured Sam so cruelly today, gave Dean the strength and determination to do something that he had rarely done throughout their lives … he was going to stand up to his Dad and tell him _exactly_ what he thought of him. Because no one – not even their Dad – had the right to fuck with his little brother the way that he had been screwed with today.

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

"Do you even _know_ what Sam was put through today Dad?" Dean asked, trying to keep his tone even and neutral, knowing that if he pushed his Dad too far, John would shut down and there would be no more discussion.

John frowned at, not only Dean's question, but the quiet fury that was resonating throughout his oldest son.

During the years of raising Dean, John had learned to become very wary and cautious of two states of emotion that Dean showed when he was trying extremely hard to control his anger; the controlled quiet fury and his manic, obsessive, big brother protective mode. And recognizing the unconscious signals Dean was giving off, Dean was showing _both_ of these qualities. Dean was both quietly furious and in manic, obsessive, big brother protective mode.

John stood up straighter in response to his son's obviously rising agitation, managing to look into his son's calmly furious green eyes without blinking or looking away, unconsciously preparing himself for the fight that he knew was to come.

John shook his head, his eyes never leaving Dean's, hoping to see signs of his son's submissiveness and for this combat of wills to disintegrate. But Dean didn't back down as he squared his shoulders, the smirk and glimmer within Dean's darker green eyes, revealing to John how truly angry and pissed off Dean really was.

"Not exactly," John replied, clearing his throat, trying not to show any guilt or hesitation in his actions, not wanting to give Dean the upper hand here.

Besides, as far as he was concerned, whatever had happened here today, had been necessary for his sons to see and appreciate what they had and to stop repeating the mistakes they had made over and over again like a damn broken record.

"No? Well, I do." Dean said, feeling Sam stiffen slightly beside him at that revelation.

"You _saw_?" Sam squeaked out in a low, frightened, guilt-ridden voice.

"Yeah kiddo, I saw." Dean softened his tone, his eyes never leaving their father's even as Dean snaked a hand at the back of Sam's neck and squeezed in support and encouragement. "And you did _nothing_ wrong, okay little brother? The things that went down today –"

"It doesn't _matter_ Dean." John interrupted sharply, determined not to waste any more time on this stupid, _emotional_ discussion when they had so little time left and had more important things to discuss.

"It was _necessary_ Dean. What you and Sam have done and accomplished throughout the years has been both amazing and impressive, but watching the two of you make the same mistakes over and over again …" John shifted his eyes across to Sam accusingly. "… it's been heart breaking and I couldn't watch it happen again."

Sam swallowed hard at the look of condemnation John sent his way, his shoulders beginning to sag slightly as he realized that John was talking about the mistakes _Sam_ had made throughout the years over and over again.

And the guilt, that had been lying dormant in Sam, suddenly returned in full force vengeance, feeling as if he had been punched in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him, a low gasp of pain and shock escaping him, quickly adverting his gaze even as Dean squeezed the back of his neck comfortingly and reassuringly.

"So, yes, I agreed to help Gabriel with setting up this little experiment in the hopes that it would break the cycle and you two would learn your damn lesson this time!" John continued, his voice rising in frustration now.

"The two of you were just pushing each other away more and more." John tried to justify his actions. "Both of you were hurting. And now that Sammy has released _another_ evil upon the Earth, I _knew_ that something had to be done. I knew that I had to step in and _save_ you boys or –"

"Or _what_?" Dean demanded, bristling at his father's accusations and the way those words had affected his baby brother; causing Sam to shrink in upon himself, his hazel eyes glistening with unshed tears of hurt, pain and guilt.

"What will happen if you can't _save us_ Dad? Are you gonna _kill us_? Like you _told_ me to kill Sammy? Is that what's going to happen Dad?"

Dean glared hard at his father, the low, dangerous smirk that many evil sons of bitches had seen right before Dean had ganked their asses, crossed Dean's lips as he stood up straighter and instinctively stepped in front of Sam, protecting him, shielding him from anything their father may do next.

"Well, go ahead." Dean invited darkly. "I'd like to see you _try_ , old man."


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Warnings:** Harsh language, violence, some physical violence but nothing too graphic, thoughts of self-incrimination.

 **Author's Note:** Not quite sure where this one came from. Not even sure if I like it or not but … it is set just after The Darkness is released. I have no knowledge of spells or how to perform them, so I have just used my imagination.

Sorry about this chapter guys, didn't mean to get into all of the old stuff again but John … he's just so damn stubborn, but hopefully by the next chapter he will finally understand where the boys are coming from. Although, I like to think that John has some progress on that matter in this chapter.

Thank you all for your patience and understanding, and to let you know again, I WILL NOT GIVE UP ON THIS STORY UNTIL IT IS DONE.

 **Special Note:** Thanks to everyone who has taken the time out to read this or favourite it or put it on alert, your support means a lot, thanks.

 **UNFORGIVEN REMEDY**

 **CHAPTER ELEVEN**

John's dark eyes narrowed, the slight twitch of his hands the only sign of his shocked surprise at Dean's words, his shock instantly giving way to anger at the insolent and disrespectful tone he heard in his oldest son's voice.

"Dean." Sam half-pleaded, warned softly, knowing by the look that had entered John's eyes and the involuntary clench of his jaw that John was just barely holding back his explosive anger.

It was John's silent warning to back off before all hell broke loose and John let rip with his lethal tyrant of words which were used to shatter and hurt before he shut down any more conversation on the matter. And with John Winchester, you only got _one_ warning.

The last thing Sam wanted to happed was for John and Dean to get into a physical fight because of Sam's own foolish actions. John had never hit either of his sons out of anger, although the few times that Dean had challenged their Dad's authority – normally out of a need to protect and stand up for Sam – it had become close to John and Dean exchanging punches. And seeing how tense and furious his older brother was, Sam feared that this time, his Dad and brother might actually be trading punches before this night was through.

"Please Dean, don't," Sam repeated quietly, more pleading now, hoping that his brother could hear the words Sam couldn't speak, wouldn't _ever_ speak because that would only cause Dean to become angrier than he was at the moment.

" _Don't do this Dean. Not for me. I'm not worth it."_

Dean heard his brother's silent, unspoken plea, but that only made Dean more determined to pursue this. Because, damn it, his little brother _was worth it_. And Dad needed to hear, he needed to _know_ that his actions had caused a lot of hurt in both of his sons.

John's actions, John's words from all of those years ago, placing that burden upon Dean's young shoulders, causing doubt about Sam to fester and grow within Dean, had caused a ripple effect that had led _both_ brothers to repeat bad decision making, to repeat mistakes, that had eventually led them here; to this.

Their Dad wasn't an innocent bystander in all of this, and it was time that he manned up and took responsibility for his own mistakes that had contributed to his sons' relationship and the problems that they now faced.

"What? You got nothing to say?" Dean couldn't help but goad his father, seeing the clenching of John's jaw become more pronounced.

"I'm not here to kill you Dean. Either of you." John replied slowly, darkly.

" _Back off Dean, right now."_

Dean's cocky smile surfaced at his Dad's unspoken threat, because there was no way Dean was backing off and letting his father off the hook. Not this time.

"Good." Dean replied smugly.

"Dean." Sam implored.

" _Don't do this for me Dean,_ _ **please**_ _."_

"I've got this Sammy," Dean assured his sibling.

" _It's okay bro. This isn't just for you, it's for me too."_

"Okay." Sam reluctantly agreed, stepping up beside his brother once more.

" _I trust you Dean and I've got your back."_

Dean's eyes crinkled up in gratitude, even as his gaze remained locked upon their father, the deadly intensity never leaving his green eyes, letting his Dad know just how serious he was.

Sam observed the glaring match between his older brother and father, both of them too stubborn to back down, knowing it would be seen as a sign of weakness if they did, both of them trying to exert their will over the other.

At this rate, neither his Dad or his brother would be able to say what they truly needed to; they would both stare into the other's eyes, waiting for the other one to back down until the time ran out and both Sam and Dean were transported back to their world … hopefully transported back to their world.

Someone needed to break this stalemate. And as neither John nor Dean looked nowhere _near_ ready to back down, Sam knew that he would have to step in.

Dean wasn't good at confrontations with their Dad, but Sam … hell, he'd had nearly a life-time at butting heads with their Dad. Sam had never had a problem with voicing his objections.

But Dean … when Dean got this mad with John, he sometimes couldn't say what he needed to say because confronting Dad and questioning Dad's motives went against every instinct ingrained in Dean to follow orders and obey John's commands right down to the last detail.

So, if this was something that his brother needed to do, then Sam would help him. Just like Dean had helped Sam throughout his whole life.

Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly, squaring his shoulders as he prepared to have one last confrontation with his father. "You shouldn't have told Dean to kill me, Dad." Sam said, his tone dripping with disappointment as two sets of eyes swivelled onto Sam.

John blinked at Sam's tone and words, feeling uneasy at the intense look of hurt and betrayal in his youngest son's eyes. John licked his dry lips, becoming a bit flustered when he realized that Sam was waiting for a response from him.

But what response could he give? He was scared? He'd been an idiot? He was sorry? Somehow, none of those answers seemed adequate enough to convey his true feelings and emotions on the matter.

But here his son was – _both_ of his sons – demanding an explanation from him for the actions he had unintentionally caused which had obviously been a sore point for both of the boys for a lot of years now.

"Yeah, I know Sammy," John sighed out softly, regretfully. "I should never have told Dean that. But I was … going away and _someone_ needed to know the danger you were mixed up in. I – I thought that Dean could handle it, but I guess I was wrong about that."

Sam felt Dean bristling beside him at their Dad's comment and Sam quickly squeezed Dean's arm reassuringly. "No Dad, that's not what I'm talking about. You misunderstand me."

Sam couldn't help the irritated sigh that escaped him, because his Dad never _listened_ to him, always jumping the gun to the wrong conclusion and before Sam could explain himself, the argument had already spiralled out of control. But this time, Sam prayed that John _heard_ him before jumping down Sam's throat.

"It's not the fact that Dean couldn't handle it, because Dean _did_ handle it. He's stronger than you think." Sam shot Dean a proud, fond smile before turning back to their father. "No, the thing I don't get is that you should have known."

"Known what Sammy?" John asked through gritted teeth, trying to keep his volatile temper under control, noticing that Sam had yet to raise his voice what so ever. If Sam could keep a level head and discuss this like adults, then John would have to do the same.

"You should have known that Dean would _never_ have been able to kill me. No matter what I did or didn't do, you should have known that Dean wouldn't be able to kill me. Just like he wouldn't let me kill you when you were possessed by Azazel."

John was stunned into silence by Sam's words. And thinking back on it now, yes, he probably did know that Dean would never resort to killing his brother. But John had to impact on how serious and dangerous that whole situation could become and he'd had little time in which to do it.

No time to gently prepare Dean for the terrible truth the demon had planned for his younger brother. He'd had to tell Dean in a way which would leave a lasting impact, so that Dean would save Sam from his intended destiny.

John let out a long sigh, all traces of anger leaving him now. "I was scared," John admitted, surprised when those words fell from his mouth, both of his sons gawking at him as if he had suddenly grown another head; because, when in their lives had John Winchester ever admitted that he was _scared_?

"You were scared of me." Sam nodded after several seconds of shocked silence. "I get that, but –"

"No Sammy," John interjected softly. "I wasn't scared _of_ you, I was scared _for_ you. I only knew some of what that yellow-eyed bastard had planned for you and children like you. But what I had learned … I was scared for you Sam." John's smile was sad as he saw Sam's eyes widen in shock at John's heart felt confession.

"You should have told me … told _us_ what you knew Dad." Dean piped up, his green eyes losing their furious state for a moment to be replaced by sympathy and regret. "We could have helped, could have done something to stop it. Maybe we could have even prevented your death if you had of just been honest with us and told us the truth."

John let out a long, weary sigh as he contemplated Dean's words. "Maybe you're right son. Maybe a lot of things could have been prevented or … maybe nothing would have changed at all."

John paused as he eyed his two boys closely, a soft, loving smile upon his lips. "But I didn't. I wanted to protect you boys as much as possible. I didn't want to scare you or turn either of your lives upside down until I knew, with absolute certainty, that what I had found out was true. That what yellow-eyes had planned for all of the special children would come to pass."

John turned his gaze toward Dean, regret and sorrow within his dark eyes now. "If I could have prevented you knowing about your brother's intended future Dean, I would have. But I didn't have any other choice. I couldn't trust anyone else with that knowledge because I knew … I _knew_ you would make the right decision Dean. And you did. You always make the right decision and choices when it comes to caring for and protecting your brother."

Dean swallowed over the lump of emotion that had lodged in his throat, all traces of anger leaving him now, his father's revelations and trust in Dean, caused Dean to feel humbled and honoured. His Dad didn't trust many people, and the fact that he had trusted Dean with that sensitive knowledge, caused Dean to see things in a different perspective.

Dean could now understand why his Dad hadn't told either Sam or himself the truth. Because, even though John Winchester was the best damn hunter Dean had ever known, teaching his boys everything they needed to know in order to become good hunters themselves and how to protect and guard themselves from evil; John Winchester was also a father. And as a father, he had done his best to protect and guard his sons the only way he knew how.

And even though Dean could understand his father's logic, it still hurt that John hadn't just come clean with Dean and told Dean the truth instead of giving Dean that damn cryptic message about having to save Sam or he might have to kill him, because at the end of the day, that had been the first seed of doubt about his baby brother to enter his mind. And the seed had been planted by none other than John Winchester, his father.

"I get it Dad, I do." Dean relented, his tone soft and understanding, even as he had a slight reprimanding tone underneath the compassion. "But you still should have told me the truth. If we had known what we might've been up against, I could have prepared better, I could have –"

"You should have killed me yourself Dad." Sam interjected, having two pairs of wide, stunned eyes turn his way.

"Sammy –" Dean breathed, preparing to go into big brother protective, lecture mode, but Sam held out a hand to stop his brother's tirade, offering Dean a small smile to prove to Dean that he hadn't lost his mind or was spiralling back down into the depressive state that he had been in earlier.

"Dean would never have killed me. He _didn't_ kill me, even when things turned bad."

"We were _played_ Sammy. Both the demons and the angels _wanted_ that to happen. I'm sorry kiddo, but I don't think either of us really had a choice in the matter." Dean tried to reason with his brother.

"Yeah, I know that Dean." Sam admitted softly. "I know that you were supposed to go to Hell in order to break the First Seal. Just like I was manipulated and manhandled in order to break the Final Seal. But what I hate the most was that you went to Hell for _me_ and I … I _obediently_ followed the path Azazel had laid out for me like some _stupid_ , naïve child, believing the lies that … _she_ fed me." Sam snapped bitterly, disgusted with himself and infuriated with that oversight, even though that particular incident had happened six years ago.

"Sammy," Dean placed a reassuring, comforting hand upon his younger brother's arm. "We've _both_ made mistakes. _Both_ of us were manipulated and fed lies. And if you really want to play the blame game, then technically _I_ was the one who started the whole mess to begin with. If I hadn't of –" Dean glanced quickly in their Dad's direction, a flush of guilt colouring his checks before he chose his wording carefully.

His Dad had lasted a _whole year_ in Hell without breaking and Dean … well Dean had broken in _three months_. And it wasn't because Dean was _weak_ or didn't have the same determination as his father, it was because Alastair had exploited Dean's one and only weakness … his baby brother Sammy.

Dean would have lasted a whole lifetime in Hell if he had known that doing so, his brother would have lived in peace, not being disturbed by demons or monsters, living a normal, _safe_ life. But Alastair … he had insinuated that Sam was in trouble, that demons had their hands on Dean's little brother and there was nothing Dean could do about it because Dean was stuck here, in Hell, because of his sacrifice for his brother.

If Dean got off the rack and _helped_ Alastair torture souls then, _maybe_ Alastair could release Dean from Hell, return him topside and Dean could be there to protect his baby brother from the big, bad demons.

Dean didn't believe that Alastair had the power or the authority to release Dean from his contract and return him to Sam, but on the off chance that he could … plus with Dean being bombarded with images of Sam in pain, or worse, replacing Dean in Hell, Dean had finally relented and agreed to help torture other souls in Hell, thereby breaking the First damn Seal that had almost led to the promised Apocalypse and the destruction of mankind.

Dean wasn't proud of the fact that he had given in and done exactly what the demons and angels had wanted him to, but with Sam's life in jeopardy … there wasn't _anything_ Dean wouldn't do for that kid.

Dean didn't mind if Sam thought he was too weak to say "no" to Alastair's offer (not that Sam ever had said that.), rather than admit the truth to his brother. Not because Dean didn't _want_ to tell him, but Dean knew Sam. And knowing Sam like he did, if Sam ever learned the real reason why Dean had agreed to Alastair's offer, he knew that kid would place the blame of that upon his own shoulders. And Sam already had too much unfounded, unrealistic guilt laid at his feet. Dean wasn't about to supply his brother with more guilt, especially since it had been Dean's choice, his decision to agree to Alastair's offer.

He could have refused Alastair, but he didn't; and that was _his_ burden to shoulder. The fact that he had fallen for such an obvious trick and lie, proved how gullible and _desperate_ Dean had been in that time of his life.

Dean cleared his throat, a nervous smile twitching upon his lips before he continued. "The both of us were _played_ Sammy, it's as simple as that." Dean stated firmly, giving Sam a long, steady look. "It's time _both_ of us forgave ourselves for the whole Armageddon, Apocalypse fiasco, don't you think?"

Sam's large soulful eyes blinked once, twice and one final time before Sam's features softened into a smile, looking more relaxed than he had in years. "Maybe you're right." He muttered softly. "Maybe it is time to forgive ourselves and move on, and I know that we were played, manipulated; and even if we had known what was coming, we probably wouldn't have been able to change any of it, but …"

Sam bit his lower lip nervously as he turned his gaze back toward John Winchester, who had remained silent throughout his sons' conversation. "Dad, when you found out … suspected … or had some kind of clue of what the demon wanted from us; you should have taken me out bush somewhere and put me out of my damn misery."

Dean couldn't help the gasp of horror that escaped him at Sam's straight forward, almost emotionless tone of voice as he told their father that John should have murdered Sam. And it wasn't the fact that Sam thought that John should have killed him – although that was disturbing in its own way – but the calm, calculating coldness tone of voice that reminded Dean too much of the days when Sam had been soulless, running around, doing what ever he wanted because he had no _moral_ compass to guide him.

"Do you honestly think I could have done that Sammy?" John asked quietly, and Sam could see the pain and hurt within his father's dark eyes.

Sam eyed his father closely for several seconds before he nodded slowly. "Yeah Dead, I think you could have. I know you would have."

John frowned, shaking his head in denial, more dismayed and distraught than he thought possible to know that his youngest son thought him capable of killing one of his own in cold blood.

How could Sammy ever think that killing his own son was ever an option for John? Man, he'd done a bang-up job of being a father if his own son thought he was capable of murder, John thought sarcastically, his frown deepening, not knowing how to respond to Sam after an announcement like that.

"Gordon thought you could." Dean added quietly, seeing the conflicting emotions within his father's dark eyes.

"Gordon _Walker_?" John demanded incredulously. "The vampire hunter? You met that crazy son of a bitch? And you _believed_ what _he_ said?"

"Oh yeah, we met him." Dean chuckled dryly, no trace of amusement or humour within his eyes. "And he _was_ all buckets of crazy. He figured out what the demon had planned for all of the "special children" and decided he would hunt them … including Sammy."

John's jaw dropped open in disbelief and astonishment at that, glancing at Sam to see Sam's confirming nod to Dean's statement. In the next second, John felt the familiar, protective rage fill him. Someone had _dared_ to target and go after _his family_?!

Oh, John was going to make that son of a bitch pay. He didn't quite know _how_ he would do that – being dead was kind of limiting after all – but he would spend the rest of his afterlife figuring that out if he had to.

"Don't worry Dad," Dean added, noticing the cold fury enter his father's eyes. "Sammy dealt with that piece of shit scumbag. Beheaded him with nothing but barbed wire and his bare hands when Gordo got turned into a vampire and decided to go rouge." Dean announced, a note of pride entering his voice.

John glanced to Sam again for conformation before he gave a sharp nod of acknowledgement. "Good." John growled, satisfied that Gordon Walker had gotten exactly what he had deserved for even _thinking_ he had the right to go after one of John's own.

"But he's wrong." John muttered under his breath, Sam and Dena straining to hear their father's words. "I never could have killed you Sammy, not ever."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look before Dean cleared his throat, his voice soft and trying to be as gentle as he could, now understanding Sam's logic and why he believed that Dad could have killed him.

"But you _did_ try to kill him Dad."

John's face lost all colour. "No, I didn't." he denied loudly. "I _couldn't_."

"Maybe _you_ couldn't Dad, but the you of _this_ world … he could. And he did."

"What?" John's voice was weak, horrified by this discovery.

Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing the distance between father and son. "That's why I got so mad at you Dad. Sammy …" Dean looked back and motioned his brother forward, not wanting Sam to feel left out of this discussion or not feel like a part of this family. Dean never wanted Sam to feel so low that he wanted to change something about his past because he thought that Dean deserved a better brother, a perfect brother, ever again.

Dean didn't want a better brother or a perfect brother. He already had the little brother that he wanted. And no matter how long it took, he _would_ get that through his brother's thick-headed skull.

"Sammy cast a … what he _thought_ was a spell because he thought he had failed me by releasing the Darkness."

Sam blushed at Dean's reprimanding tone as he reluctantly came to stand beside Dean, not being able to deny Dean's words as he hung his head, now feeling a bit foolish for his drunken, desperate state earlier tonight.

Dean slung an arm around his embarrassed sibling's shoulders and brought Sam closer to Dean's side, winking reassuringly at Sam's look of surprise at his anti-emotional no chick-flick- brother basically giving Sam a one-armed hug.

"Why don't you tell Dad what you wished for Sammy?" Dean suggested, watching his younger brother's checks redden even more.

"Sam?" John demanded an answer when Sam remained silent.

Sam closed his eyes before he slowly raised his gaze to his father's and shrugged, very self-conscious now. "I was drunk." Sam begun, hoping Dad wouldn't condone him too much for his irrational and spontaneous actions at that admission.

"I wasn't in a good head space and I thought that Dean would be better off if he didn't have such a screw-up of a brother. So, I decided to cast the … spell … to change one thing about my past. Change it so that none of this … none of my mistakes had ever happened. All I wanted was for Dean to be happy. To have the life and little brother that he deserved."

"Silly boy," Dean chided gently. "If I had wanted to change anything, it would be that you be shorter than me, Sasquatch." Dean grinned teasingly, while Sam couldn't help but laugh in surprise.

"What do you mean I tried to kill you?" John asked, not wanting to interrupt the brotherly moment between his boys, but his curiosity outweighed his need for discretion; and the fact that their time was limited, didn't help matters either.

Dean sighed loudly. "The _spell_ that Sam thought he had cast … it was actually a _curse_. And as soon as Sam entered _this_ world, everyone that he trusted; turned against him, making him lonelier and more vulnerable than before." Dean said, squeezing his brother's shoulder in sympathetic understanding.

"Sam explained to you that his "wish" was to change one thing about his past … well, the one thing that changed … Sammy never went to Stanford."

"What? You chose not to go to school, Sammy?" John hissed in disbelief, knowing how big of a deal that was for his youngest. For as long as John could remember; once Sam became aware of the world of hunting, Sammy had wanted out. He'd wanted a _normal_ life, to go to school and to be safe. So, for Sam to give up school, proved to John just how serious Sam had been to change things.

Sam shrugged his shoulders indifferently, as if the sacrifice he had made meant nothing at all. "That seemed to be the start of everything. When I left for Stanford, that was the beginning of the end for me. I thought that if I didn't go to school, that we would be closer as a family, that we could avoid all of the past mistakes, but …" Sam bit his lower lips, tears starting to gather within his eyes. "It didn't quite work out the way I thought it would."

"That's the understatement of the year!" Dean exploded, the sarcasm oozing from his tone, underlining the slight trace of fury Sam could hear within his big brother's voice. "You were a _drunk_ Dad. The _you_ in this world _blamed_ Sam for Mum's death and I think that drove you a little bit insane because you thought you could … beat the evil out of Sam."

"What?!" John gasped, appalled. "I _beat_ you?" John turned his frantic eyes onto his youngest son's dejected form.

"It wasn't your fault –" Sam began, trying to defend John's actions of _this_ world, even when he realized how wrong that behaviour had been.

"Oh _please_!" Dean scoffed loudly, rolling his eyes at Sam's stupid statement. "It _was his_ fault. You not only beat Sam but you tortured the poor kid as well and Sam … he put up with it, didn't tell the _me_ of _this_ world because he wanted us to be together as a family. He wanted to fix his past, even if that meant he was beaten and tortured every single day."

Dean saw John swallowing convulsively, not wanting to believe anything that Dean was saying; but knowing if there was one thing Dean didn't do, it was to lie or over exaggerate … especially when Sam was involved.

"Of course, once the _me_ of _this_ world found out what was happening, we left your sorry ass behind and Sammy and I continued hunting, using his psychic gifts in order to save people."

"We saved Jessica." Sam said in both shocked awe and sadness.

"Yes, we did." Dean agreed proudly. "But because Sam didn't go to Stanford, he didn't meet Jessica and the Jessica of _this_ world … well, let's just say that Sam wasn't even the right gender."

John looked puzzled for only a few moments before he nodded, sudden understanding entering his eyes as well as sympathy for his youngest son, because he knew how much Sam had loved Jessica.

Sam shrugged again, trying to act as if it didn't matter, even though John could see the hurt and pain shinning within Sam's hazel eyes. "At least she didn't die." Sam said under his breath.

"When the _you_ of _this_ world found out the demons plans for Sam, you tracked us down and decided that the only way you could _save_ Sam was to kill him." Dean continued, watching his Dad's expression grow more tense and troubled by the second.

"You ended up shooting me instead, which caused Sammy to –"

"I tapped into the dark powers within me and killed you with the power of my mind. Snapped your neck like it was nothing but a twig." Sam said, trying to keep his voice devoid of any emotion, but even he could hear the silent tremor within his voice and he quickly dropped his eyes to avoid the accusing look he _knew_ his father would be sending his way, deliberately leaving out the fact that Sam had _enjoyed_ the power and sensation that had flowed through him, loving the feeling of incredible strength and invisibility that dark power had given him.

God forbid, his father learned that Sam was more of a _freak_ than he already thought. John had freaked out – admitted he was _scared_ – when he learned the demons plans for him and the other children like him … what would his reaction be to learn that his son had _enjoyed_ the dark power flowing through him to extinguish the life of _this_ world's John?

Sam shuddered involuntary at that thought and immediately shut it down, determined that John would never learn of that, not wanting to see the extreme disappointment within his father's dark eyes, or even worse, changing the opinion that his Dad had about his youngest son or seeing the fear that Sam had seen in _this_ world's John's eyes in his own Dad's eyes.

"Don't worry Sammy," Dean's soft, understanding voice broke into Sam's thoughts, bringing Sam back to the present once more. "I was rooting for ya to _kill_ that son of a bitch!" Dean assured his sibling. "In fact, if that had of been the _real_ me here, I probably would have held the bastard in place while you killed him."

Sam frowned at the sudden serious note that had entered his older brother's voice. "Dean –"

"No Sammy," Dean shook his head violently. "What that asshole _did_ to you … he _deserved_ to die. And I, in no way, hold you accountable for doing what you needed to in order to survive."

"I agree." John added, both of his sons looking at him curiously, obviously shocked by his answer. "What?" he inquired innocently. "Not even a _look alike me_ has the right to put his God damned hands on _my_ boy like that."

The three Winchester men shared a rare moment of unity and comradery that they hadn't shared in years as they all smiled at each other.

"So, even in this reality, you stuck by your brother till the end Dean." John commented in an off-hand manner, only now understanding the trauma his youngest son had gone through but was comforted by the fact that, like always, Sam had had his big brother Dean to rely on.

"Not exactly," Dean replied hesitantly, John's eyebrows raising questioningly at the reluctant tone in Dean's voice. "The me in _this_ world was a complete and utter tool. He couldn't get over the fact that Sam had killed their Dad. Didn't, or couldn't, trust Sam anymore and took off leaving Sam behind, alone to deal with everything by himself, threatening to kill Sam if Sam tried to find him. He told Sam that Sam wasn't his brother anymore."

Regret surfaced within Dean's deep green eyes as he touched Sam upon his arm to get Sam's attention. "I _never_ would have abandoned you Sammy, not ever." Dean said, needing Sam to believe the truth of that statement and see the sincerity of the words he spoke.

"I know that, Dean." Sam nodded solemnly, believing that with everything he had in him. Because, even with all of the fights and the rocky patches the brothers had been through throughout the years, and even when the two of them had gone their own separate ways for a while, needing the distance from each other in order to sort themselves out, the two of them had always come back together and had _never_ given up on their brotherhood.

And Sam had _always_ known, that whatever had happened between them, Dean would have dropped everything in a heartbeat to help Sam if he even suspected that Sam was in trouble, just like Sam would do, had done, for Dean.

"Oh." John's heart sank to the pit of his stomach at the knowledge that Sam had been abandoned by everyone he trusted, left alone to face the fate of his intended destiny by himself, having no support, no back up, no help what so ever; so it was only natural that the plan yellow-eyes had conceived of all of those years ago had played out to the bitter end.

A pair of solemn, deep green eyes, displaying traces of anger and the fierce brotherly protectiveness and loyalty that had always been Dean's driving force through life, gazed into John's dark eyes steadily, a warning within those eyes for John not to pursue this any further, to not blame Sam for any of this or there would be hell to pay.

The next pair of eyes that met John's were large and haunted, the expressive hazel eyes that John knew so well as belonging to his youngest was hooded, veiled and John could see a lot of hate and bitterness within those eyes, but it wasn't directed at John as it had been in Sam's teenage years. No, this time those emotions were directed inward, toward himself.

Dean's eyes blazed with fierce protectiveness, ready to fight if his Dad decided to push the issue any further, if John decided to lose his temper and take it out on Sam as he had been known to do once or twice in Sam's younger years.

This time John knew that Dean wouldn't stand back and allow his Dad to cause Sam anymore grief over the matter. The kid had been through enough, and Dean would do whatever it took to protect him … even if that meant knocking the old man out in order to achieve that.

Sam's eyes were burning with shame, his wide, haunted eyes filled with shadows of darkness, disbelief and a plea for forgiveness that had John's heart clench painfully within his chest.

His baby boy was hurting badly. And some of it had been John's own doing, so the least that he could do was to forgive his boy, even though he knew Sam would never be able to forgive himself.

"I'm sorry Sammy, really I am," John said apologetically and Sam could see the sorrow and remorse within his father's eyes which shocked Sam for a moment, because his Dad didn't do sorry.

Sam's eyes narrowed, instantly suspicious. Was this even their _real_ father? The John Winchester that Sam knew never admitted when he was scared and he never apologized. But here John was, standing before his sons and doing both of those things that Sam had never heard utter from his Dad's mouth. _His_ Dad was too stubborn, too proud, to admit to such trivial emotions.

Sam slid his gaze over to Dean, seeing the same doubts that Sam had, reflected within his big brother's green eyes, even as Dean smiled to reassure his younger sibling.

John couldn't help but chuckle at his sons suddenly tense, suspicious postures. Not that he could blame them for being suspicious, and if John was being completely honest with himself, he felt a touch of pride at how alert and attuned to the situation his sons were. Maybe John had taught them a little too well.

"Before you boys get the wrong idea here; yes, it's me. And yes, I did just apologize. In fact, I should have apologized to you boys a long time ago. Being dead … well, let's just say you gain a new perspective on things and how useless some emotions can be; like too much stubbornness and pride. But, if it will make you feel better, you can perform the tests on me to make sure it really is me."

Dean ran a calm, calculating eye up and down John Winchester before he exchanged a look with Sam and shrugged indifferently. "Nah, we're good." Dean announced, satisfied that they were dealing with the real John Winchester.

He may be saying things that their Dad wouldn't normally have said, admitted to feelings that Dean suspected John had deliberately pushed down years ago because he considered them a hinderance, but Dean's hunter instincts hadn't chimed out in warning and he was confident that the two of them were, in fact, dealing with the real John Winchester.

"Well, okay then," John let out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding before he turned serious once more. "I get that you boys have been put through hell because of Gabriel's little experiment, but at least it wasn't real and now you boys can –"

"Not _real_?" Dean repeated incredulously, his eyebrows rising so high that they almost disappeared into Dean's hair-line.

Was his Dad being serious right now?

Dean glanced over at Sam and saw a dumbfounded look upon his brother's face at John's words, and all of Dean's anger from earlier came rushing back through him with blinding ferocity.

After everything John had heard, after everything John had learned and he _still_ didn't get it. He still didn't _understand_ how stupidly _dangerous_ this whole thing had been to begin with, how _close_ Dean had come to losing his little brother forever.

This was just typical of John Winchester. He always failed at getting the point. So consumed by the constant need for revenge, that he had failed to see the bigger picture; failed to be the father that he wanted to be; failed to bring his children up the way that Mary Winchester would have wanted them to be brought up.

Instead, John Winchester had been consumed with his need to avenge his dead wife so much so, that he had almost lost his sons in the process. Even in death, it seemed that John Winchester still didn't get it.

Unless …

Dean Winchester knew his father … maybe he knew John better than John knew himself, and John had never listened to reason – not if he truly believed that his way was the right way – except when he was presented with physical, _hard_ , undeniable proof to say otherwise.

So, if John wasn't listening, wasn't _hearing_ what his sons were telling him, then Dean would just have to _show_ him how reckless and stupid this whole _experiment_ had been.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Warnings:** Harsh language, violence, some physical violence but nothing too graphic, thoughts of self-incrimination.

 **Author's Note:** Not quite sure where this one came from. Not even sure if I like it or not but … it is set just after The Darkness is released. I have no knowledge of spells or how to perform them, so I have just used my imagination.

I apologize for the lateness … but I was trying to wrap it up before I posted anything. But, as usual, endings have never been my greatest strength and at the moment, I have finished up the next chapter with hopefully one more on the way.

Thank you all for your patience and understanding, and to let you know again, I WILL NOT GIVE UP ON THIS STORY UNTIL IT IS DONE.

 **Special Note:** Thanks to everyone who has taken the time out to read this or favourite it or put it on alert, your support means a lot, thanks.

 **UNFORGIVEN REMEDY**

 **CHAPTER TWELEVE**

John Winchester knew he had said the wrong thing the instant those words left his mouth. Faced with his oldest son's anger yet again and his youngest son's look of bewildered hurt and John knew that his boys had taken his words the wrong way, completely out of context.

He hadn't meant to trivialize wither of his sons experiences here in this world or belittle them in any way, but judging by his sons' reactions, that's exactly what he had done.

Being sensitive and thinking before he spoke had never been one of John's strengths. He honestly didn't see the point in censoring his words once Sammy became aware of the family business and what his Dad really did for a living.

He didn't beat around the bush, didn't find any sense in mollycoddling his boys; didn't have time to _ease_ his sons into the monsters they hunted. He never lied to them, telling them the honest truth – even as gory and horrible as those details may be to young children – because he wanted his children to _survive_. He wanted them to _live_ and to understand that their lives, what they hunted, how they lived, it wasn't a _game_.

It was serious and very dangerous. One wrong move, one innocent mistake, one time you didn't have your guard up, didn't realize the danger you were in, could be the difference between life and death.

No, John didn't have the luxury of _babying_ his boys, not in this line of work and not if he wanted them to succeed in the hunting lifestyle and not die like so many other hunters John had seen and known throughout his life.

He may have been tough on his boys, but he had only been so tough, so harsh and gruff because he wanted his children to _live_. He wanted them to be able to defend themselves against whatever creature attacked them or tried to hurt them.

And looking at his boys now – his boys who had grown into good, strong and capable men – John knew that he had succeeded in his job as their father, despite what either of his sons thought.

His _boys_ , who had grown up in the life, living in one scummy hotel after another, being shipped all over the damn country side, never laying any roots in any specific town, never having a home or somewhere they had belonged … his boys – who many hunters had told John would never be cut out for the life, would never amount to anything or even make good hunters (especially his youngest) – had proved all of those naysayers wrong.

His boys had stopped the damn Apocalypse; had faced any and all threats that came their way with a united front; never giving in, never being beaten and _always_ finding a way through each disaster – even when it looked as if all hope was lost – together.

Their strength was the belief and trust that they had in each other and John was damn proud of the men they had become. Which is why John hadn't been able to sit back and do nothing any longer.

He could see the strain in his sons' relationship. He could see the toll it was taking on each of them as the two of them buried their hurt, trying to function as the team they had once been, trying to act as if everything was fine when the two of them were drowning, struggling with their grief, their hurt, their betrayal.

He had been able to see the cracks surfacing, becoming deeper and deeper within both of his boys as they slowly began to lose trust in themselves and each other and John … he couldn't stand to see his boys in so much pain, hurting, not communicating with each other or sorting out the misunderstandings that had begun to develop between them.

It had broken his heart to see his boys' relationship, once so proud, strong and united, slowly being eaten away and he knew he had to _do_ something. He had to get his boys _talking_ again. Make them see that their bond as brothers was still strong; it was still there … all they had to do was fight for it, and not give up on each other the way they had given up on themselves.

So, when Gabriel had approached John, proposing this little experiment of his in the hopes of re-establishing Sam and Dean's bond as brothers, requesting John's help, John had jumped at the chance to help reunite his boys.

There wasn't anything John wouldn't do for his boys, even if the lesson he was trying to teach them was harsh and seemed like a punishment instead of the guidance he had intended it to be, even if his sons didn't understand that lesson until years later, John's intentions had always been pure, his sons lives always at the forefront of his mind.

His actions may have been harsh, abrupt, pushing his boys abilities to the limits, but it was done out of love, out of a need for his sons to be better than him in every possible way – not only as hunters, but as men as well – out of a desire for his boys to become good, honest, strong men; capable of defending themselves against anyone and anything; saving people, hunting things, the family business.

Of course, he had eventually wanted his sons to settle down, get married and have children of their own, living the normal life that they never got to have as children. But looking at them now, and seeing all of the good they had accomplished, John realized that hunting was their life now. They couldn't give it up, couldn't ignore the cry of help from people who were tormented and plagued by supernatural beings.

His boys were heroes.

And the two of them were better men than John had ever been. John had only wanted to help them. He could see that Gabriel's plan – as brutal and horrendous as it may have seemed – would have the desired effect that both John and Gabriel wanted … to get his boys working together in harmony again.

Contrary to what either of his sons believed, John could _always_ see the bigger picture, could always visualize the outcome of the hunt, knew what he wanted and needed to achieve that goal. It was just his _method_ of getting to that goal – the middle bit, using his boys as bait, not being as fully prepared as he could have been because he was blinded by the goal, the end, wanting to get to that result as quickly as possible, wanting to save as many lives as he could, that he sometimes, unintentionally, put his boys in harm's way.

John may be able to save more lives with his often dangerously, reckless plans, but more times than he liked to admit, one or both of his sons paid the price for his impatience and impulsiveness.

And now, it looked as though John had repeated that mistake once again. In his desire to help his boys, agreeing to Gabriel's outrageous plan, and even though it seemed as if it had achieved the desired result both John and Gabriel had wanted, his boys had ended up drawing the short end of the stick again and they had gotten hurt because of John's reckless impulsiveness.

John felt a twinge of guilt for causing his sons more emotional pain – because his boys had honestly been through enough in their lives – but he couldn't dwell on that because no matter how horrible it had been in _this_ world; this experiment had brought his sons closer together.

They hadn't been this close in years and John couldn't help the small smile of triumph that pulled at his lips, because it had worked and John had played a small part in helping his sons reconnect with each other once again. John had been able to fulfil his role as their father and teach his children one more valuable lesson before they were returned to their world and John was returned to his afterlife.

It felt good to be able to play such an important role in his sons lives again; to be able to bring his sons closer together, to get them to communicate, to re-strengthen their bond, build their trust and belief in each other and themselves. And John … John had _helped_ them to achieve that.

John couldn't help the feeling of accomplishment that swept over him, the feeling of pride and love that he felt as he gazed upon his children, simultaneously seeing them as the children they once were and the men they had become today.

Today had been a harsh lesson for his boys, but it had worked.

Here they stood before him, united, their bond as brothers becoming strengthened, their protectiveness for each other reignited. Sure, they still had a long way to go, a lot of hard battles ahead of them to achieve that bond, but John had full confidence that if anyone could do it, his boys could.

They were the only ones who could defeat the Darkness, but they could only do it together; united as both brothers and hunting partners once more. Together, there wasn't anything his sons couldn't accomplish.

John knew that even without this little extra push, his sons would have worked out their problems … eventually. John just hadn't been sure if his heart could take any more of his boys hurting. And so, he had intervened, knowing that this experiment would at least get his boys to start talking again, start to rebuild their fractured relationship, start to heal from all of the hurting, distrust and misunderstandings that had come between them in recent years.

John breathed a sigh of relief, because it had worked. And his sons … they could stop hurting now and focus all of their energies on the healing process that would begin once Gabriel returned them to their world.

Gabriel.

Shit, that suddenly reminded him of the time limit that they had. John wasn't exactly sure of how much time had passed already, but he knew that it was running out faster than he liked and he still hadn't managed to say what he had come here to say.

Determined to make sure his purpose became a reality, John straightened up, deciding to over-ride his sons' emotional outburst by doing what he'd always done, getting down to business in that brutally, honest way of his.

"Okay boys, we don't have time to go through every little damn mistake all of us have made in our lives." John deliberately ignored the hurt, kicked-puppy look his youngest son gave him before he ploughed on. "Time is short, so –"

"Not _real_?" Dean repeated incredulously. "That's all you have to say on what you did here today? We should … what? Just forget about it and move on because it wasn't _real_?" Dean's green eyes blazed furiously, frustrated and disappointed that his Dad couldn't at least acknowledge what his sons had been through today.

Because, like always with his Dad, the ends always justified the means. And just like always, because of his father's impulsive, brash behaviour, his sons ended up getting caught in the cross-fire and getting hurt because of it.

"Dean," John announced sternly, his tone warning Dean to back off and drop it. "We have more important things to discuss –" John began before Dean cut him off again with a harsh, bitter laugh.

"'More important things to discuss'?" Dean repeated scornfully, shaking his head slightly, clicking his tongue in disappointment.

Of course, he shouldn't be surprised that his Dad couldn't see how much his actions had hurt his sons because this was just how John operated. As long as people's lives were saved and the monster of the week had been destroyed, what did it matter if his sons had been hurt along the way?

John had always put the hunt before his boys' needs. Dean had always known that and he had always been only too happy to oblige and go along with his Dad's plans … until those same plans inadvertently meant Sammy had been hurt.

Dean hadn't cared about his own safety or happiness, but his little brother _deserved_ to feel safe, _deserved_ to have a little bit of happiness in their shitty lives.

And the moment John's impulsiveness disrupted or caused _his_ baby brother any undue, unnecessary suffering or agony – be it mentally, physically or emotionally – was the moment that Dean would be in their Dad's face, demanding that John fix it, make it right for his kid brother by starting with a damn apology.

Of course, John had never given into Dean's demands. And the day that John Winchester apologized or admitted to a mistake would be the day that Hell would freeze over … except, being _dead_ seemed to make the almighty John Winchester feel a _little_ bit of remorse for his actions, it seemed.

So, during those rare times when Dean would be arguing with their father because Sammy had gotten hurt, John would immediately back down, recognizing Dean's anger for what it really was – concern and worry for the well-being of the youngest Winchester – even though John's jaw would clench in an effort to contain his rising anger as he walked away from his furious older son, putting distance between them until the two of them could calm down and talk to each other more rationally.

Although, depending on how pissed off Dean was, or how badly Sammy had been hurt, Dean's anger could last for days on end, John always seeming to catch the brunt of it.

And not that John hadn't deserved it, because, even he could admit that sometimes he had _rushed_ in too fast before finding a better solution, but he didn't have time for Dean's petty anger. Sam was alive; Dean was alive; the monster was dead; no one had gotten hurt, what the hell was the big deal?

But Dean had found it hard sometimes to let it go, because his Dad just never saw the long-term effects his decisions had caused. He never stuck around long enough to witness Sam's recover from a physical injury; the frustration and low self-worth Sam would have about himself because, damn it, why couldn't his body _heal_ faster? He was letting his father down by not being _strong_ enough. Why wasn't he ever _good_ enough?

The nightmares that would consume his brother nightly, while he would have mild anxiety attacks during the day as the emotional and mental issues of his Dad's poor decision making, leaving his baby brother more vulnerable and weaker than before.

Because, in Sam's young mind, he was obviously too weak to handle things if his Dad had left him behind, he wasn't strong enough, not good enough. Did he see either his Dad or big brother suffering from _night terrors_? Hell no, they were tough, strong sons of bitches and Sam … Sam still had a _long_ way to go. Would he _ever_ be good enough in his Dad's eyes?

Dean had seen it all, had tried to erase every doubt Sam had about himself, had tried to install the confidence and self-worth that his baby brother deserved, but Sam … Sam had always taken things to heart. He had always _felt_ like a burden in John's eyes, acting tougher when Dad was around, more independent, hiding his true emotions in the hopes that one day John would utter the words that Sam had longed to hear, that his Dad was proud of him and he was enough just the way he was.

But John never validated his sons like that. And even though Dean had told Sam had _he_ was proud of him and glad to have Sam in his life, he knew that the person Sam yearned to hear that from the most was their father.

But John had never said that … hell, would _never_ say anything like that because John wasn't the emotional, touchy-feely type. Instead, John would _show_ his boys how he felt by ruffling their hair, grinning proudly, a squeeze of the shoulder to show support or encouragement, as well as sympathy and understanding; a frown and slight shake of his head would display his disapproval and disappointment.

John had a range of facial features and gestures which showed both brothers that they were loved and important, regardless of their Dad's impulsiveness, insensitive actions, John just had a hard time expressing emotions. Because in his eyes, emotions were a sign of weakness.

But in those moments when Sam was feeling emotionally vulnerable, he would need that verbal validation to reassure him of his worth and value. Sammy couldn't lock away his emotions like his father and older brother were able to do, and sometimes the poor kid just needed to be _told_ , to be _held_ , to let him express his emotions anyway he saw fit.

And while Dean had _always_ allowed his brother to _be_ at times like this, holding the kid as he cried onto Dean's shoulder, showing and giving the kid all of the emotional support, he needed, their Dad had never been able to do that for Sam. Had never been able to let his guard down in front of Sam. So, in Sam's eyes, that always meant that he was never good enough in their father's eyes.

A hand tugging upon the bottom of his shirt, had Dean turning to face Sam, eyebrows rising questioningly at his little brother's antics to get his attention.

"Let it go Dean," Sam said quietly, his tone steady, his eyes clear, relaying to Dean that it wasn't worth the fight that would ensue because their Dad would never understand what it was Dean was trying to tell him anyway. "It's okay. Just let it go big brother, okay?"

Dean knew that he would cave into his brother's request when Sam flashed that dimpled smile at him, reassuring Dean that he was okay with it. And honestly, if John Winchester hadn't learned that particular lesson by now, it was highly unlikely that he was going to learn it within the next few minutes. Dean would have better luck winning the lottery than he would getting his Dad to admit he was wrong.

Dean offered Sam an acknowledging smile and nod, willing to let it go because Sam had asked him to … until John opened his mouth again and Dean could see the hurt look that crossed his baby brother's face at his Dad's cruel, heartless and thoughtless words.

And that only made Dean more determined to prove to John just how wrong he was. Because nobody made his little brother look like that. Not even their father.

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

"We don't have _time_ for this Dean," John tried to reason with his oldest through clenched teeth, desperately trying to keep his rising agitation under control, irritated and frustrated at his oldest son's refusal to just let this go.

"Whatever _issues_ you think you may have because of this little experiment Gabriel whipped up for you in order to help you get over your damn selves and stop feeling sorry for yourselves – especially _you_ Sammy – suck it up and _deal_ with it."

Sam couldn't help but wince at his father's words, bitting upon his bottom lip to keep his emotions in check because his father was speaking the truth.

Sam _had_ been feeling sorry for himself, too wrapped up in his own hurt to notice that his older brother was also hurting; too wrapped up in trying to _prove_ himself to Dean, to save him from The Mark, that he had gotten people _killed_ over it; blinded by his own desire to do something _good_ in his life that he had ultimately released the worst kind of evil known to man … the Darkness, in his need to prove himself to be good, Sam had done the complete opposite when he had released the Darkness from its box.

This … all of this … what had happened here in this alternate universe, it was _his_ fault. And it was only because of his _ego_ that the two of them were in this mess now. If Sam hadn't of gotten drunk; if he hadn't have wanted to perform a spell in which he could change the past, then none of this would have happened.

And honestly, how egotistical was that? Who the hell did he think he was that he could change the past and wipe away all of the sins he had committed with a wave of his hand, wiping _his_ slate clean while under the pretext that he was doing this all for his big brother, to make Dean happy?

He didn't even stop to ask Dean if this was what he wanted, _assuming_ that Dean would be happy once Sam had completed the spell and changed their past and futures forever.

This was the same thinking that had made him listen to Ruby all of those years ago. He had _assumed_ that his brother was too weak to handle taking on Lilith, to handle the breaking of the seals. He had wanted to get stronger in order to _protect_ his big brother, but all Sam had succeeded in doing was letting Dean down, abandoning him when Dean had needed him the most.

And here Sam was, making the same mistakes all over again. Why couldn't he do _anything_ right? Even when he had the purest, noblest of intentions, wanting to _fix_ things for his older brother, he kept _screwing it up_!

Sam bit down harder upon his lips until he could taste blood, hands clenched so tightly into fists that his fingernails were cutting into the palms of his hands, his head hanging low in remorse, regret and defeat, wishing that Dean would just leave his sorry ass here.

Dean didn't _need_ him, would in fact, do better without Sam in his life. Because if Sam wasn't there, then Dean wouldn't have to spend so much time cleaning up Sam's colossal messes. He wouldn't have to keep saving Sam over and over again.

"Neither of you got _hurt_ ," John continued, his voice rising, Sam detecting the bitter accusation within his father's tone, knowing that these words were directed at him now. "And although you _think_ this was harsh, you _needed_ to be taught this lesson. You needed to get your heads out of your asses and man the hell up.

Honestly, I was getting _tired_ of watching my son repeat the same mistakes over and over again like some bloody broken record. And if Gabriel hadn't approached me with this plan, I was getting ready to do something drastic myself."

John paused, eyeing his two sons sternly. "And if _I_ had to have intervened myself, you two boys would have been a hell of a lost worse off than what you had it here, believe me.

And so what if poor Sammy got his precious little _feelings_ hurt?" John spat out, rolling his eyes sarcastically at his youngest son's emotional tendencies. "It had to happen Dean, Sammy had to _learn_."

John turned his gaze upon his oldest son, trying to make him understand how necessary this whole thing had been. "He had to face the consequences of his actions without you, his big brother there, to buffer the impact.

Sammy had to learn that it's _not_ okay to release evil beings into the world where they can wreak havoc and destruction upon mankind, all because of his damn ego trip."

Sam jumped guilty at his father's words, a gasp of horror escaping him before he could completely clamp down upon his emotions because, _of course_ this was about him.

"Enough!" Dean roared, watching as his little brother shrank in on himself in guilt, the tenseness of his body and the slight tremors that radiated throughout his body, suggested to Dean that his little brother was on the verge of an epic emotional collapse.

Dean's eyes narrowed as he took a couple of steps closer to John. "You shut your damn mouth." Dean growled with venom, the protective fury rising quickly within him, wanting to protect his little brother from their father's poisonous words. "Not one more word, do you understand me?"

John opened his mouth, a sharp retort of Dean watching his tone when talking to his father upon his lips before the dangerous, deadly look within his son's green eyes had John swallowing back his retort and closing his mouth so quickly that Dean was surprised that John didn't bite his own tongue off.

Satisfied that John wasn't going to be an issue for now, Dean spun around and walked quickly back to his trembling little brother.

Dean instantly moved closer to Sam, throwing an arm about the kid's tense, shaking shoulders. "It's okay Sammy," he murmured soothingly in the kid's ear. "None of this is your fault, okay? You did nothing wrong little brother. Besides, what the hell does the old man know? He's been _dead_ for the past eight years!

He's got no right to butt into our lives and give us a lecture on how we live our lives." Dean continued, hoping that his words would loosen his baby brother's guilt just a little bit. Because that's all the old man had ever done for Sam, dump guilt on the poor kid's shoulders until finally, Sam had had enough and had decided to escape from under John's restrictive, strict thumb by going away to college.

"Come on Sammy, you know what an _ass_ Dad is. Hell, that man has made more mistakes than you and I put together. What the hell does _he_ know about learning from mistakes when he has never learned from his own damn mistakes?"

Dean was relieved to hear a sob/chuckle emerge from Sam, even as the tremors and tenseness within his brother's shoulders began to ease.

"That's true," Sam sighed, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. "Dad was never one to admit to when he was wrong, was he?"

"Definitely not." Dean agreed. "That man was as stubborn as a mule. And you shouldn't listen to a damn word he says now, okay Sammy? He hasn't got the _right_ to scold us anymore or teach us any kind of lesson. He lost that right a _long_ time ago. Don't let him get inside of your head Sammy. You have done nothing wrong little brother, you hear me?"

Dean was rewarded by Sam's nod as the kid fought to get his emotions under control before he squared his shoulders and slowly raised his eyes.

"That's my boy," Dean declared proudly. "Now, how about the two of _us_ teach the old man a lesson he will never forget?" Dean winked at Sam, the playful grin upon Dean's lips left Sam to wonder how serious Dean was about doing exactly that or whether he was only teasing to get the tentative smile that Sam gave him.

"Dean, let me explain –"

"No, that's enough Dad." Dean declared, his green eyes glistening with hard determination which caused John to back down immediately. "I've heard enough. And I'm not standing here, listening to you _insult_ my kid brother all so you can feel better about yourself."

"No Dean, that wasn't what I –"

"I don't _care_ about your past mistakes. I came to terms with who and what you are a long time ago Dad. But what I _do_ care about is what has transpired here today."

Dean took a moment to look at his father and couldn't help the rueful shake of his head when all he could see was dumbfounded confusion within his father's dark eyes.

"You still don't get it, do you Dad?" Dean asked softly, the bitterness and disappointment easily detected within his tone. "You still don't understand why I'm so angry about all of this, do you?

You've heard both me and Sammy explain what happened to him in _this_ world and all you can say is that it wasn't _real_ and we needed to be taught a _lesson_? Are you really so blind that you can't see what this had done to us?" Dean demanded, gesturing between Sam and himself almost violently, wanting his father to see the errors of his ways, just once, and offer his sons an apology for the hurt his actions had caused them.

But looking into his father's wide, shocked, confused eyes, Dean knew that he was going to have one hell of a battle ahead of him if he wanted John to apologize for his actions.

John locked gazes with his oldest son's furious green eyes that were steadily growing darker the angrier he became. He knew that Dean would by angry, but the amount of rage that he could see in his son's eyes didn't make sense to John.

Sure, it had been a tough lesson to learn. And he could understand how Dean hadn't wanted to see Sam hurt, because John had found it unbearable to watch his boys in continual, constant pain and had wanted to do _anything_ to make his sons stop hurting, but it was a lesson that _both_ of his boys needed to learn in order for them to _move_ on.

And maybe it had been kind of … cruel to play with his boys' emotions like that, but … it hadn't been _real_. His boys were never in any serious danger here. So, the amount of rage within Dean's eyes, seemed a bit excessive in John's opinion because this honestly hadn't been that bad. And now that they knew this was all an elaborate scheme in order to bring both brothers together … why couldn't Dean let this go and see it for what it really was, a valuable lesson.

John quickly regained his composure, once more taking a deep breath before he held out his hands in a placating gesture. "I get that you're angry son," John began in a low, calming tone. "And I understand that you've been hurt, and I shouldn't have … tricked you, but none of this –" John swept his arm around the area surrounding them. "– was _real_. You were never in any real danger Dean, either of you. So –"

"Dad, I've heard _enough_!" Dean growled out through clenched teeth, his tone low and lethal like it got before he disposed of the threat placed before them. "You have no fucking idea of how –" Dean paused when he noticed Sam glancing at him in the concern out of the corner of his eye.

Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly, knowing that the last thing his brother needed to see right now was his big brother lose control of the barely contained emotions coursing through him. So, for Sam's sake, Dean made a conscious effort to calm down, but still determined to make his father _see_.

He had to make John _understand_ just how terrifying this ordeal had been. Not just for Sam, but for Dean as well.

"Do you know how terrified I was when Sam collapsed like that? He hit his head _hard_ , blood escaping almost faster than I could stop it." Dean began in a controlled voice, hoping to keep the stark terror out of his voice when he recalled his little brother lying unconscious and unresponsive upon the ground, Dean having no clue as to what was wrong with his brother; but by the strange look Sam gave him, Dean didn't think he was as successful at keeping the fear out of his voice as he thought he was.

"Once I managed to get Sammy stabilized, wondering what in the hell was happening to him and whether I should take him to the hospital or not – and as if I wasn't freaking out enough – strange marks and scars started to appear upon Sam's body as if by magic."

A slight frown appeared upon Sam's features, noticing the subtle tremor in his brother's voice. It was so slight that John didn't even notice it, just looked at Dean, a neutral, vacant look upon his face, almost as if John had lost interest in this conversation.

But Sam noticed. He saw through his big brother's bravado act and knew that Dean had to have been absolutely petrified if his voice was shaking like this. And knowing Dean like he did, Sam knew that Dean wasn't scared for himself, he was scared for Sam, not knowing how to protect Sam from the seemingly invisible force that was making strange marks appear upon his baby brother's body.

Sam's features softened, grateful that at least some things never changed. Even through the chasm between them had seemed almost impossible to cross, Dean had always and would always be scared for and worry about his pain in the ass little brother.

A great weight Sam didn't even know he'd been carrying, lifted at the simple revelation that his big brother would always be there for him. No matter what.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Warnings:** Harsh language, violence, some physical violence but nothing too graphic, thoughts of self-incrimination.

 **Author's Note:** Not quite sure where this one came from. Not even sure if I like it or not but … it is set just after The Darkness is released. I have no knowledge of spells or how to perform them, so I have just used my imagination.

This chapter took an unexpected turn, but that happens some time. Working on the next chapter, so hopefully won't be too long before it is posted.

Thank you all for your patience and understanding, and to let you know again, I WILL NOT GIVE UP ON THIS STORY UNTIL IT IS DONE.

 **Special Note:** Thanks to **Pie Love Luci** for your kind review.Thanks to everyone else who has taken the time out to read this or favourite it or put it on alert, your support means a lot, thanks.

 **UNFORGIVEN REMEDY**

 **CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

Sam shifted impossibly closer to Dean, wanting to ease his big brother's pain and fear – much like Dean had done for Sam's entire life – wanting to reassure Dean through his presence that Sam was still here, alive and safe thanks to his big brother's protection, feeling immense relief when he felt Dean relax visibly beside him.

It had been a long time since Dean had relaxed so completely within Sam's presence, which proved just how worried Dean had really been. And again, the source of his brother's fear, panic and worry was all caused because of one person … Sam Winchester.

Sam closed his eyes, not giving into the never-ending guilt that wanted to consume him – he'd have time to feel guilty later – instead using that guilt to fuel another brotherly response that he thought he'd never feel again as passionately and strongly as he did right now, a fierce protectiveness.

Sam reopened his eyes, wanting nothing more than to stop the pain his big brother was in, and the fact that their Dad wasn't understanding Dean's pain and hurt, caused Sam's frustration to soar even higher.

"What's the point in all of this Dean?" Sam snapped out bitterly, glaring at his father so hard that John almost took a step back out of instinct alone.

"Dad is _never_ going to understand it. He's always right, remember? Nothing we say will ever make him change his mind." Sam shot out sarcastically, deliberately placing himself in their Dad's sight-line, trying to protect his older brother the only way he knew how … to divert attention onto himself and away from his brother.

John's dark eyes swivelled from his oldest to his youngest, not appreciating the confrontational tone that he could hear within his youngest son's voice.

God, the amount of times John had had to correct his youngest son's tone and disrespectful way Sam would talk to John as a teenager. John had thought that Sam would have learned that lesson by now. But looking at the daring, smug look within Sam's hazel eyes, John knew that would be a lesson he would never be able to teach his youngest.

And instead of getting angry, rising to the bait Sam had provided him with, John simply shook his head in disappointment, a sigh of sadness escaping him. "I taught you better than that Sammy," he reprimanded in a low tone. "You talk to your elders with _respect_. I had thought you'd outgrown all of this teenage angst Sammy.

C'mon son, you're a _man_ now. Why don't you at least try and act like a mature, responsible adult and not the selfishly stubborn teenager you always were."

A harsh retort immediately sprang to Sam's lips, but he stopped himself from uttering the harsh, hurtful words, knowing from experience that he would never win an argument with John like this.

Instead, it would grow increasingly worse, both of them screaming out hurtful things to the other one, escalating to an almost physical confrontation between them before Dean would have to step in and cool both of the hot heads down.

Sam refused to put any additional hurt upon his brother than what he already had today. But his Dad was right about thing … Sam was an adult now. And as much as John's words had hurt him, Sam was not going to prove his father right in being a selfish brat any longer.

He wanted to protect Dean.

He wanted Dean to be happy and not have so many responsibilities upon his shoulders.

He wanted to take the worry from his brother's face and the fear from his brother's heart.

All he really wanted was for his big brother to stop feeling so damn responsible for Sam all of the time; to be able to let Sam go and lead a life where the biggest weight upon his shoulders would be lifted because he no longer had to take on the responsibility of Sam's exceptionally wrong decision making.

"Maybe you're right," Sam admitted, almost laughing at the comically outrageous look that crossed John Winchester's face, because Sam had _never_ admitted that John was right about anything.

"Maybe I am nothing but a selfish child." Sam could feel Dean's eyes boring into his back, could imagine the scowl that would be upon his brother's face because someone had dared to insult his little brother – even if that person was Sam himself – but Sam wasn't convinced that defiant, possessive, proud scowl would be upon his older brother's face now.

Not after everything Sam had done.

Not after Sam had betrayed and hurt his big brother so completely.

No, it was enough that Dean was here; with him right now; fighting to keep Sam alive, having to rescue his stupidly naïve and gullible little brother yet again.

The pride and undying faith that Dean had held for his little brother … Sam knew that had disappeared a long time ago. And Sam knew that Dean may never see Sam like that again, and that was all right by Sam.

The fact that Dean was _worried_ about him … that was _more_ than Sam had ever expected. And he was content with that.

"But I have never intentionally gone out of my way to hurt anyone and I _always_ admit to my fuck-ups, which is something that I have never seen you do Dad. And believe me, _you_ have made a lot of fuck-ups in your life too." Sam stood up straighter, staring at his father defiantly, almost challenging John to correct him.

Sam watched as John's eyes narrowed sharply, anger lines appearing at the edges of his eyes before John's tense posture relaxed slightly, a slight tilt of his head indicating to Sam that what Sam spoke was the truth.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief at the non-verbal admittance John had taken responsibility for and hoped that was enough to appease his older brother and they could all get out of this fucked up, crazy universe and return to their own fucked up universe; one which Sam had broken, but would now work his ass off to repair.

He was a man who tried to fix his mistakes, no matter what he had to sacrifice to achieve it … except his beloved older brother's life. Sam would not allow Dean to sacrifice himself for Sam's mistakes, not ever again.

"Ow!"

A sharp, stinging slap to the back of Sam's head had Sam turning to look at Dean in surprise. "What was that for?" Sam couldn't help the whine that entered his tone, feeling as though he was a kid again being admonished and reprimanded by his big brother. And just like he did then, Sam still hated to be in his brother's bad books.

"What the hell Sam?!" Dean demanded, managing to sound offended, hurt and angry all at the same time.

Sam's eyebrows quirked up quizzically because he honestly had no idea what Dean was referring to now.

"What have I told you about people who trash talk my little brother?" Dean asked, almost smirking at the bewildered look that was upon Sam's features. "Dean Winchester's number one rule. What is it Sammy?"

"Don't scratch the Impala?" Sam's face scrunched up in confusion when Dean tapped Sam's forehead, tsking in a playful, irritated way, indicating that Sam had gotten the answer wrong.

"Cute Sam," Dean smirked. "But that's rule number two. Rule number one is; anyone who messes with Dean Winchester's little brother –"

"Will get their lungs ripped out." Sam finished off the familiar quote with a fond smile upon his lips.

"Exactly." Dean nodded in approval. "So, are _you_ aiming to get your lungs ripped out today Sammy? Keep putting yourself down like that I _will_ be beating some sense into you. Understand?"

Dean could see the confusion within Sam's large hazel eyes as he tried to figure out what Dean meant. With an exasperated shake of his head, Dean gripped the back of his brother's neck, demanding Sam's complete attention. "You may be a lot of things little brother – particularly a whiny little bitch – but you have never been, nor will you ever be a selfish person."

Sam felt the tears instantly prick at the back of his eyes at the depth of emotion that he could see within Dean's eyes, knowing that Dean spoke the truth.

"Are we clear geek-boy, or do I have to drum it into your thick head one more time?" Dean inquired, both teasing and serious at the same time.

Sam had to swallow several times before he nodded slowly, feeling like the luckiest little brother alive. Because, who else would have an awesome big brother like Dean, who would forgive the little brother no matter how badly they kept screwing up?

"Understood." Sam acknowledged, his voice shaking with emotion. "But you do realize what an overly dramatic jerk you sound like right now, right?" Sam quipped, a shaky smile upon his lips.

Dean scoffed, lightly ruffling his brother's hair before he rolled his eyes and shrugged dismissively. "What can I say Samantha, I guess you bring out the girl in me."

Both brothers grinned at each other, enjoying the light, easy bantering and the brotherly moment they had shared. Maybe their brotherhood wasn't as damaged as they thought. Maybe, with time, they could regain all that they had lost and just be brothers again.

"Really Dean, when are you going to stop shielding your brother from the truth of the world? From the truth of himself?" John asked, his voice oozing with disdain and disappointment. "I told you to "look out for your brother" not wrap him up in cotton wool and mollycoddle him his whole life.

You have always been too soft with that boy Dean, giving into his selfish whims and desires. Even now, because of Sam's selfish actions today, you are _stuck_ in a universe that is not your own."

Sam let out a low, resigned sigh as he instinctively tried to put distance between them, as if Dean standing in close proximity to him would end badly for Dean; but Dean squeezed the back of Sam's neck, non-verbally telling Sam to stay put as he turned and ran a critical eye up and down John Winchester, the long held respect and obedience that he had had for his father, slowly diminishing as the man he had once idolized and aspired to be like kept verbally attacking his kid brother.

"Really Dad?" Dean scoffed loudly. "Now you're going to pin all of this on Sammy? All Sam was guilty of today as trying to make things right. He was _trying_ to make up for his past mistakes.

And what do you do? You conspire with Gabriel – a _known trickster_ – and helped him to _trap_ your own son in here, making Sam suffer and live through a horrendous lie all so you can teach us a lesson and talk to us one more time?"

Dean paused and eyed his father coolly. "Yeah, and Sammy's the selfish one?" Dean retorted bitterly. "Maybe _you_ should be the one to be taught a lesson Dad. Because what happened here, in _this_ universe, what Sammy _went_ through all so he could keep this fucked up family together …

it was cruel Dad. And I will _never_ forgive you for hurting _my_ kid brother like this. Not ever." Dean declared in a low, harsh voice, the look that Sam feared he would ever see upon his brother's face, suddenly reappeared, his green eyes flashing with protective fury as he faced off against his father, Sam not being able to recall a time when Dean had been _this_ furious with their Dad.

"Okay, maybe I did overstep a little," John reluctantly admitted. "But Sammy needed to –"

"That's enough!" Dean held up his hand to stop John's argument, suddenly becoming sick and tired of John's lame excuses. "Sam didn't _need_ to _learn_ anything Dad." Dean took a step closer to John, seeing apprehension flash within his father's dark eyes.

Apprehension was a good start, but Dean wanted to see remorse, guilt and sympathy within those eyes and this time Dean was going to get what he wanted.

"I am sick and tired of _everybody_ manipulating and trying to control _my_ kid brother. Ever since he was six-months old, everybody – demons, angels and humans – have been manipulating Sammy in some way."

Dean pursed his lips, a disapproving scowl upon his features. "I never thought you would be one of those people trying to manipulate Sammy Dad. But here you are, conspiring with Gabriel, trying to enforce _your_ will upon _my_ baby brother, in order to do what _you_ want him to do by using Sam's own feelings and emotions against him. Honestly Dad, I never thought you would sink this low."

"Now, hang on a minute Dean," John spluttered indigently. "I have never, in my life, manipulated _anyone_ , let alone my own sons."

"Oh please!" Dean scoffed, dismissing his father's indignant tone with a wave of a hand. "Your whole life is about manipulation Dad. As long as you achieve the end result, you never cared how you went about it, managing to _guilt_ people into doing what _you_ wanted them to do.

As long as John Winchester defeated another monster, what did it matter if you trampled all over people's feelings to get what you wanted? The end result was all that ever mattered to you. And you never needed to worry about the consequences of your thoughtless actions because you always left it up to me to clean up after you."

"What the hell are you talking about?" John demanded, his tone conveying to Dean to choose his words carefully because the great John Winchester was starting to lose his cool and patience.

"I'm talking about _us_ Dad." Dean stated, his own patience being pushed to its limits because why couldn't his father _see_ the damage his actions had caused? Why couldn't he understand why Dean was so angry about all of this?

"Every time one of your decisions caused either one of us to be hurt, _I_ was the one who had to pick up the pieces because _you_ never stuck around long enough to witness the results your actions caused."

John frowned thoughtfully at Dean's words, trying to recall if he had ever hurt his children the way that Dean was describing, but to the best of his knowledge, John couldn't recall a single instance in which his actions had caused _either_ of his children pain … except in the numerous hunts gone wrong.

His boys had had many injuries while hunting supernatural beings, but that was all part of being a hunter. No hunt, no matter how much you prepared, would ever go according to plan, except on the very rare occasion when it would go exactly according to plan.

But for Dean to suggest that John was to blame for all of their hunting injuries was completely and utterly ludicrous. His boys had a special knack of seeking out danger; going behind his back and disobeying his strict orders to stay put in favour of hunting the supernatural creature by themselves, which had caused numerous _physical_ injuries, earning them the right to one of John's harsh, stern lectures in the importance of obeying his orders so that _nobody_ would get hurt in the hunt … even if their reckless actions _did_ manage to save John's own ass.

No, laying all of this upon John's shoulders was childishly idiotic. His boys had made plenty of mistakes which John had had to clean up. So, for Dean to suggest that John had left Dean to shoulder all of the responsibilities of John's actions and having to clean up his messes was all crap.

Dean was just as guilt as John with all of this. And it was time that John reminded his impetuous son of that very fact.

"You're not exactly innocent in that department either Dean." John said in a cold tone of voice, feeling hurt and a sense of betrayal at his oldest son's words. "How many of _your_ mistakes have I had to clean up over the years?"

"While I was still learning the ropes and training to become a hunter, lots of times, I'm sure. I have no problems in admitting to that." Dean agreed in a neutral tone of voice. "But then I grew up. I learned from my mistakes … learned from _your_ mistakes.

Even when I would offer suggestions on a different way to proceed with the hunt … you never listened to me and always proceeded the way _you_ wanted to; sometimes causing a lot more harm to the people around you."

Dean said in a calm, matter-of-fact way, eyeing his father closely, almost feeling sorry for the older hunter before him, because John had never given himself the capability to grow as a person; remaining stunted in his dangerously, reckless, impulsive ways right up until the time of his death.

And the most ironic thing of all was that John _did_ have the capability to grow, to improve, to learn new things because John was an exceptional hunter who was always learning from his hunting mistakes; becoming faster, stronger and a force to be reckoned with. Nobody could track and see a pattern the way his father could.

But his relationship with _people_ left a lot to be desired. People – other hunters, his sons – were just pawns in John's crusade to avenge his dead wife. And John hadn't cared or wanted to admit to himself how much he had toyed and played with people's emotions all so he could achieve the end result of killing that yellow-eyed son of a bitch demon.

But Dean knew, because he was always the one left handling the fall-outs of John's actions. Because of John's unyielding stubbornness, he had fallen out with a lot of people – especially hunters – because of his obstinate ways.

The falling-out with Bobby had been particularly difficult. Not for John, because he was gallivanting across the country side, hunting evil beings and saving innocent lives.

No, it had been extremely difficult for Dean because, not only had the brothers developed a great fondness for the gruff older hunter, but Bobby was Dean's back-up plan if anything happened to John or the brothers faced trouble at the motel they was staying at.

Now, because of the older hunters' falling-out, John had forbidden Dean to contact Bobby, insisting that Dean was old enough to handle any problems that might come the brothers' way and they no longer needed Bobby to help them any longer.

Dean had tried to convince his father that they needed another back-up person to help out now that Bobby's help was off the table – even though Dean had argued on Bobby's behalf for hours – but John had become stubborn and had declared that Winchester's didn't need help from anyone, least of all other hunters. From now on the three of them were on their own.

And Dean honestly didn't mind that. He was used to providing for Sammy, raising his kid brother – although he did miss Bobby, even just to talk to – and obeying his father's orders without question until Sammy got hurt because of his Dad's reckless actions.

"When have I _ever_ left you to deal with the consequences of my actions?" John demanded righteously, confident that Dean wouldn't have an answer to his question because John had _never_ left Dean to deal with any of his mistakes. Of that, John was one hundred percent certain.

"April 16 1997, Phoenix, Arizona." Dean responded immediately, seeing Sam pale considerably at the reminder of that particular date. "Do you remember Dad?" Dean asked, gently squeezing Sam's shoulder reassuringly. "Sammy had just turned fourteen and you decided that I was needed elsewhere to help out another hunter.

Now, normally I would have shipped Sam off to Bobby's or at least had Bobby check in with the kid every night, but you _assured_ me that Sam would fine because you would home, with Sam, within the next couple of days."

John nodded slowly as the memory surfaced within his mind. "I was late." John murmured, recalling how pissed he'd been when had had finally gotten to Phoenix, only to discover that both of his sons had gone.

His anger had increased even more when he discovered that Dean had bailed on the hunt John had sent him on and now his two sons were camped out at Bobby Singer's place … the one-person John had forbidden Dean to contact ever again.

John had felt betrayed and mortified by his oldest son's actions and had ordered Dean back immediately. But Dean had deliberately disobeyed John and had stayed at Singer's for another two weeks before he had re-joined John, a sullen and silent Sam at his side.

"You disobeyed me." John said, becoming angry all over again at the memory. "You not only took off to the one person I had forbidden you to contact, but you embarrassed me by taking off half-way through a hunt, leaving them high and dry."

"No Dad, I didn't leave _anyone_ high and dry. I sent for a replacement hunter before I left." Dean said, his voice strong and steady. "Plus, he completely understood _why_ I had to bail. As it was, I was almost too late to stop –"

Dean closed his eyes and clenched his jaw tightly, overcome by the overwhelming feelings that invaded him at these dark memories … fear, anguish, horror disgust and guilt.

"It's okay Dean. I'm okay, you're okay. You got there in time big brother. And just like you always did, you saved me Dean, okay?"

Dean heard the catch within his brother's voice, trying to remain strong for Dean even as he became lost within those dark, vicious memories. Dean should have known better than to bring up that particular date, but it was the first thing that had popped into his mind, the first time he had really felt betrayed and angry at his father's thoughtless actions. Because if his father had just swallowed his pride and allowed the brothers to be able to contact Bobby, then none of what happened would have happened and Sammy would never have gotten hurt!

"Yeah, I know Sammy," Dean opened his eyes, offering Sam a brief, apologetic smile, patting Sam's arm consolingly, reassuring his brother that this secret was safe from Dad. "Yeah, little brother, we're both good." Dean added, his smile wide and confident for his brother's sake.

Dean had never told their father the truth about what had happened in Phoenix, and he never would because Dean had handled it and the issue had been resolved years ago.

"Too late to stop what Dean?" John inquired, a feeling of dread beginning to settle within the pit of his stomach.

Dean and Sam exchanged looks before Dean shook his head forcefully. "That's not important right now." Dean dismissed in an irritated, brisk manner "The point I was trying to make was that because of _your_ actions, Sammy was hurt."

"What do you mean Dean?" John demanded defensively. "By the time I arrived, you two had already gone. How the hell was Sammy getting sick my fault?"

John noticed his sons exchange looks once again and he had a feeling that he didn't have the full story about what had really occurred in Phoenix. When his boys met up with John again, neither of them would talk about what had happened in Phoenix.

Dean would later tell John that Sammy had been really sick and that's why they had stayed at Bobby's for as long as they had. But John wasn't stupid or blind. He had seen the fading bruises on _both_ of his sons' bodies, but when neither of them offered any sort of explanation about it, John had reluctantly dropped it after Dean had assured him that it had been dealt with and wouldn't be a problem anymore.

John had nodded his head, congratulating Dean with words like "good job Dean." and "I'm proud of you son," even though he had no idea what exactly Dean had done to deserve that praise, John had instinctively known that Dean had needed to hear those words from John.

Dean took a deep, steadying breath and let it out slowly. "For starters, you told me that you would be two days max. You had been missing for _two weeks_ before Sam had plucked up the courage to tell me that you hadn't shown up and he was getting worried about you. By the time I had gotten to Sam, both of us had left you dozens of messages and voicemails to call us an let us know you were all right.

I _had_ to get Sammy out of there. And you weren't answering our calls so I did the only thing I could do. I swallowed my pride and rang Bobby for help, for a place to stay … which Bobby was only too happy to provide us with.

But the _point_ I'm trying to make here is that if you hadn't of let your stupid pride overtake you, severing your friendship with one of the best men I have ever known and sent me off, leaving Sammy all alone and defenceless for two whole weeks, then Sammy wouldn't have gotten … sick."

"So, I was gone for an extra couple of weeks," John shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "Things became more complicated than what I was expecting it to be. I trusted that Sammy could make do and look after himself … like you could at that age Dean. Is it my fault that Sammy wasn't as capable as what you had been?"

"That is beside the point." Dean said through gritted teeth, becoming increasingly frustrated with John's refusal to _see_ the truth.

"Dean, let it go man," Sam's soft voice breaking through the veil of Dean's frustration. "It's not worth it bringing it all back to the surface again. It's over. Dealt with, right Dean?"

Sam's large, hazel puppy-eyes implored, pleading for Dean to drop this, pleading with Dean not to tell their father anymore about that time in Phoenix, least their father become more suspicious than he was already.

Dean looked into his brother's soft, haunted gaze and nodded in acknowledgement. "Yeah Sammy, it's over." Dean replied calmly and simply, squeezing Sam's shoulder in sympathetic understanding before he faced John Winchester once more.

"I can see, like usual, you are not getting the point I am trying to make here. So, let me _show_ you what can happen because of your thoughtless and impulsive actions."

Dean turned to look at Sam. "Show him Sammy," he said softly, almost apologetically.

"Show him what Dean?" Sam asked, confused about what his brother was referring to?

"Your back Sam. Show Dad your back."

Dark memories from the past were instantly replaced by images of what had transpired in _this_ world at the hands of _this_ world's John Winchester.

Sam swallowed hard and shook his head. "Dean, no," he both denied and begged in a whisper, horrified at the thought of _his_ Dad seeing the physical evidence of how _weak_ his youngest son really was to have allowed _this_ world's John to have beaten and defeated him so badly.

"It's okay Sammy," Dean assured, grounding Sam in the present through physical contact. "I'm here now. And nothing bad will ever happen to you while I'm around. Remember, little brother?"

Sam nodded, remembering that promise Dean had made to him years ago. "Yeah Dean, I remember, but I don't think –"

"Please Sammy," Dean implored softly.

Sam looked into his brother's green eyes for a long time, never able to refuse Dean when he used the "p" word in combination with that wounded, pleading look upon his face.

After several long seconds, Sam gave into Dean's request. He turned his back toward his father and in one quick movement, he quickly removed his shirt, hearing the sharp gasp of horror from behind him as the physical wounds Sam had suffered from in _this_ world was now displayed for everyone to see.

"What the _hell_?" John quired, his tone both filled with horror and anger, not able to tear his gaze away from the sight of his youngest son's back. Deep scars and welts that John had never seen before littered his baby boy's back.

John felt shocked and appalled at first, wracking his brain to think of _who_ could have done this to his kid. Judging by the scars – some of them faded, some of them intense and defined – this … abuse had occurred over a number of years.

Oh God, had some bastard been _abusing_ his boy without John's knowledge? Had this been happening while John was alive? And if it had, then why hadn't he ever learned of it? Surely Dean would have known if something like this had happened.

White hot rage began to coarse through the entire length of John's body as he turned his gaze upon Dean questioningly. "Who the hell _did_ this Dean?" John demanded darkly, vowing that whoever had hurt his boy was going to pay with their lives. "Who the hell did this to my boy?"

Dean cocked his head to the side, his features softening into compassion and sadness, hearing a note of anguish within his father's voice. "You did Dad." Dean said, steadying his younger brother's shaky body with a simple touch to his back. "You did this to Sammy."


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the supernatural characters.

 **Warnings:** Harsh language, violence, some physical violence but nothing too graphic, thoughts of self-incrimination.

 **Author's Note:** Not quite sure where this one came from. Not even sure if I like it or not but … it is set just after The Darkness is released. I have no knowledge of spells or how to perform them, so I have just used my imagination.

I apologize for the lateness of this chapter. If there is anyone still out there who is interested in this … here it is, just for you, the FINAL CHAPTER!

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time out to read this story of mine, it means a lot. And thank you all for your understanding and patience. This chapter just did not want to be written … but I persevered through the writer's block, and eventually got through it.

Hope this is a satisfactory ending for all of you.

On a different note, the inspiration for this story was inspired by **Streets of Philadelphia** by **AlxM**. I wanted to do a time travel type of story in the present … and this was the outcome. If you get a chance, you should check out that story, it is amazing.

Anyway, enough rambling from me. Hope you all enjoy this final chapter of Unforgiven Remedy.

 **UNFORGIVEN REMEDY**

 **CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

"No, I didn't." John denied loudly, shocked that one of his sons would think that he would ever be capable of doing something like this … especially to one of his own.

"I wouldn't. I _couldn't_ ever do something like this to Sammy. Not ever." John's voice shook slightly, pleading with Dean to believe him. "I swear to you, I did not do this Dean."

"I know." Dean agreed simply, gently.

John breathed a sigh of relief at Dean's words, now feeling more confident than he had before because Dean believed him.

" _You_ could never do something this horrific or cruel to Sammy. But the you of _this_ world could." Dean announced in an eerily, calm, controlled voice.

"What?" John gasped, too shocked to think of a more eloquent response.

"I told you how the _you_ of _this_ world was trying to _beat_ the evil out of Sam." Dean gently explained. "Well this –" Dean swept his hand up and down Sam's back. "Most of this was caused the last time you whipped Sam before the me of _this_ world found out and got Sam as far away from you as humanely possible."

John's eyes widened, sickened to think that _his_ hands were responsible for creating such horrendous wounds upon his youngest son's back. Even though, technically, it wasn't _him_ who had done this to Sam, John couldn't help the overwhelming guilt that surrounded him and the sadness within his heart that even a look-a-like fictional version of himself could have caused his own son such intense and psychological pain.

And it wasn't until now, seeing the handy work that his … _double_ had bestowed upon his boy, that John finally began to understand Dean's anger at this whole situation and why he was so upset.

"This scar right here," Dean shifted Sam's body slightly to the right and pointed out three particularly large and vivid claw marks just above Sam's right hip, and John could tell by the jagged and gapping scars that those wounds had been deep. Scarily deep.

John raised his eyebrows questioningly to Dean, wanting to know how or what had done that to his baby boy.

"Werewolf," Dean answered his father's unasked question. "The one out in Ohio, remember? Sam hadn't been there because he'd been at Stanford at the time. But in _this_ reality Sam never went to Stanford; so most of these are from hunts Sam _never_ should have been on."

Dean watched as slow realization began to enter John's dark eyes, John too speechless to say anything, too overwhelmed by the shredded mess of his son's back.

"And this," Dean added, pushing down his own shirt and revealing the scar of the bullet wound. "Was caused by the _you_ of _this_ world. You tried to shoot Sammy but I got in the way instead." Dean paused as he watched his father's eyes grow impossibly wider, looking from Sam to Dean in a desperate, pleading, helpless kind of way because now John could _see_ , first hand, the direct result his impulsive actions had caused.

"Okay Sammy, you can put your shirt back on." Dean said, waiting until Sam had put his shirt on before he spoke once more. "Now do you understand _why_ I got so pissed at you when you said this wasn't real and you not realizing how _dangerous_ this whole stunt was?"

John nodded slowly, too dumbfounded to speak right now, his large dark eyes filling with unshed tears as he turned his gaze upon Sam, pleading for his boys to forgive him.

"I – I didn't realize Sammy," John said, his tone impossibly low and soft, fill of remorse, regret and guilt. "I thought …" John took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I didn't think it would be _this real_." He whispered in a lame attempt to justify his actions. "I only wanted to help."

"We know that Dad," Dean soothed his distraught father, not used to seeing the proud and stubborn elder Winchester looking so vulnerable and lost. And as much as Dean wished he could stop hurting his father, because it looked as if _finally_ , John understood why this had caused such distress for the Winchester siblings, Dean knew that he had to push on … just a little bit more so that their father completely understood the full gravity of the situation that had unfolded here today and would hopefully deter John from ever performing such a stupid stunt ever again.

" _We_ didn't know this wasn't real Dad. As far as I knew, my kid brother was trapped in some weirdo-bizzaro world where every decision he made would turn out bad because I _thought_ he was trapped in a curse that was slowly killing him.

Seeing everyone Sam loved turn against him and me not being able to be _here_ with him, to help him, was _killing_ me." Dean stressed, letting down his shield so that his Dad could see how hurt and scared Dean had really been throughout this whole experience.

"It's okay Dean," Sam instantly tried to soothe his older brother, wanting nothing more than to take away the stark terror and hurt he could hear within his brother's voice. "I'm right here Dean and I'm not going anywhere." Sam promised, hoping to ease the fear from Dean's deep green eyes.

"Yeah, I know Sammy," Dean offered his brother a shaky, trembling, grateful smile before he turned his attention back to their father. "But as bad as that was, and as frustrated as I felt at not being by my brother's side, as Sam's body got colder and colder, knowing that he was dying and there wasn't _anything_ that I could do about it …

The absolute worst thing about this whole thing was seeing Sam in _this_ world, being persuaded and tempted by _Bobby_ – of all people – to put a loaded gun in his mouth and pull the trigger because ending his own life was the only way that Sam could truly save me.

And you want to know what the kicker is Dad? Sam was so low, had been _convinced_ that his mere _existence_ was what had caused our family to experience all of the bad luck over the years, that Sam had _seriously_ considered doing just that.

He was going to put a God damned loaded gun in his mouth and blow his damn brains out. And I wasn't here to stop him. I couldn't reach him in this fucked up place, couldn't kick my stupid little brother's ass for even _thinking_ that killing himself was _ever_ an option.

Do you know how _scared_ I was Dad? I _believed_ that Sammy's life was in danger and _I couldn't get to him_. I was terrified. Only to find out that this had been nothing more than an elaborate scheme cooked up by an arch-angel with a warped sense of humour and my very own flesh and blood father.

You should have been _helping_ us Dad, not becoming some accomplice in Gabriel's fucked up plan. You should have stopped it _before_ Sammy decided that blowing his brains out would be a good idea; before you just sat here, justifying your actions by telling us that this was for our own good and we needed to be taught a lesson.

What did it matter anyway if we got hurt here because none of this was real, right? But it was _real_ for _us_ Dad. It was real for me. And you did nothing to – "

"But I did help Dean," John interjected quietly, not being able to handle seeing his oldest son's pain any longer because he _did_ understand how stupid and naïve his actions had been, not completely understanding the repercussions of his actions, not to mention the lasting and damning effects this would have upon his sons for years to come.

"I was the one who brought you into this world to be by your brother. I _did_ help you Dean. You asked to be brought here and I brought you here." John announced, pleased and proud with himself, hoping that all would be forgiven now because John had brought Dean here – to _this_ world – in time for Dean to save Sam's life. Shouldn't everything be forgiven and forgotten now?

Dean blinked, several times in rapid succession, trying to comprehend his Dad's words before he angrily shook his head, bitterly disappointed in his Dad once more.

"So, what?" Dean demanded, the hurt and betrayal easily detected within his tone. "Because you _helped_ to get me here, does that mean that everything you did here today is automatically erased?"

"Well, not completely," John muttered under his breath. "But maybe a little." He added hopefully.

"You are un-fucking-believable, you know that?" Dean scoffed at the blank, confused look upon his Dad's face. "I pour my heart out to you like some hormonal teenage girl and you _still_ don't understand why I am so _pissed_." Dean exploded, anger once again replacing his desperation.

"No Dean, I get it. I do." John insisted, his dark eyes suddenly deadly serious and fill of remorse and regret. "I understand that I overstepped the line. I got blind-sided by the end result that I failed to see what all of this was doing to you boys. And for that … I am truly sorry."

Dean shared a stunned, disbelieving look with Sam at John's humble tone, his lowered head indicating his deep remorse and guilt over the events that had occurred here today.

Even though this is what Dean had been fighting and arguing with his father to understand ever since he had learned that this whole thing had been nothing more than an elaborate hoax, Dean didn't feel immense relief or gratified satisfaction in his father's admittance to the back lash and repercussions his neglectful and thoughtless actions had had upon his boys.

No, Dean felt empty and hallowed out. Because in order to make his father see and understand, Dean had completely broken the once proud and stubborn Winchester. And Dean could never find any satisfaction in that.

A tense, awkward silence surrounded the three Winchester men at John's heartfelt apology. It was clear to both brothers that John had finally recognized the part he had played in this vicious, cruel game that Gabriel had fashioned for them because John had failed to see the consequences of his actions.

He had wanted to help his boys – and quite possibly he had; only time would tell for sure if this experience would bring the siblings closer together – settle their differences and become brothers once more. But, as usual, John had failed to see that his actions had only caused his sons more pain.

Now that John had seen the _physical_ evidence of what his actions had caused to his boys, he finally understood why Dean had been so angry with him. John _did_ rush into things blindly sometimes, but he had never intentionally wanted to hurt anyone.

He had just wanted to save innocent people's lives, kill the evil beings that lurked in the darkness, protect his boys as best he could until he made that yellow-eyed son of a bitch pay for killing his beloved wife, leaving his children motherless.

John thought he knew best. He'd strived to reach those end goals as quickly as he could, not even considering that his own actions could sometimes cause more harm than good … not to the innocent lives he was trying to save, but his friends … and his very own sons.

If John could have, he would have to kick himself for all of the times he had left his sons alone and vulnerable; for all of the times his decisions had gotten either of his boys hurt on hunts or … just what the hell had happened to his boys in Phoenix?

Dean's words from earlier kept replaying within John's mind; the way Sam's body had frozen, his eyes widening in shock and horror before a look of absolute terror crossed his younger son's features, losing all colour; while Dean's body shook with rage, his green eyes narrowing with guilt, anger and betrayal before he had regained his composure so that he could be strong for his younger brother.

Something … terrible had happened in Phoenix. Sammy had been _hurt_ somehow – and John hated to think how exactly his youngest had been hurt, because the way both of his sons were acting it obviously hadn't been just a simple fist fight, like John had assumed when he had seen the bruises upon his boys – and Dean felt both guilty at himself and extremely angry at John for failing to return to Sammy when he said he was going to and not turn up two weeks later.

John wished he could question his boys more about Phoenix, but he knew neither one would offer up any more information on the matter. Still, it hurt John to realize that his boys had had to go through something that obviously still caused them such tremendous pain by themselves.

Why neither Dean nor Sam thought they couldn't tell John what had happened was a complete mystery to John. John had seen his boys get hurt before; and save for a few faded bruises his sons had, they had seemed less hurt than what they would have had they been on a hunt gone wrong.

What could be so _bad_ that neither of his boys had told him the truth all of those years ago and had still kept that secret to this day?

John's imagination was going over time, thinking of all of the different scenarios that would make these two proud, strong men act the way they had as soon as Dean had mentioned that town's name. And none of those scenarios were good. All of them had John screaming for someone's blood, because how dare _anyone_ think that they could ever hurt _his_ boys?!

The only reason John could think of why Dean and Sam had stayed silent about this for all of these years was because they _knew_ John would be pissed and would be angry enough to do something so drastic – like killing or torturing – or they thought the truth would cause John to see them differently.

Were they trying to shield and protect him … or were they scared and too ashamed to tell him?

John hoped it was because they were trying to protect him and not because they were scared.

John shook his head and deliberately pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind, knowing that if Dean said it was handled, then it was handled and whether John knew the truth or not would make no difference to the outcome that had already befallen them/him/her. John fervently hoped that Dean had made them/him/her suffer before he … handled it.

John had made a lot of mistakes, he knew that, but this one, right here, helping Gabriel and putting his boys through hell, had to be one of his worst mistakes yet.

And he honestly had no idea on how he could possibly make this right with them. No amount of words could smooth this over. All John could do, was to stand there, helplessly and wait for his boys retaliation.

Dean looked upon his father's subdued, meek posture and body language, realizing that he had done something that no one else before him had managed to do.

He had brought the once proud, stubborn, arrogant John Winchester down to his knees and broken him in a way that all of those evil sons of bitches John had beaten over the years, had only ever dreamed about.

And something about that thought, that knowledge, made Dean feel sick to his stomach. He immediately wanted to take back his words, wrap his arms around his father and plead for forgiveness for what he had done, for what he had said to have reduced the almighty John Winchester down to this pathetically _weak_ and humbled man.

This man standing before him now, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, chewing upon his bottom lip indecisively, head hanging in shame, was not the same man that Dean had admired and looked up to when he was a child.

Dean took a step forward, opening his mouth to take it all back, admit that he was in the wrong, if only he could bring back the strong, stubborn, proud man that Dean knew his father to be; but one look at Sam standing beside him, looking almost as lost as Dean felt, stopped Dean dead in his tracks.

Dean had done this for Sammy. Dad had unintentionally hurt his little brother with this cruel _lie_ , had almost broken Sam completely by manipulating him and using Sam's own emotions and guilt against him. And Dean suddenly realized that he _couldn't_ take it back.

This time John Winchester needed to learn a lesson. And no matter how bad John felt or how broken he seemed, Dean knew that he couldn't let John off the hook so easily this time. John had gone too far. And it was time that John learned that once and for all.

Dean closed his mouth and stared at his father indifferently, remembering _who_ he was doing this for and why. He had almost lost Sam tonight. And that was something Dean would never forgive. Nobody hurt his little brother and got away with it … not even their Dad had that right.

Dean's resolution and conviction strengthened as he gazed down at John pityingly, feeling Sam's eyes upon him. And as Dean turned to look at his brother, he could see the questions within his little brother's eyes, asking if Dean would put their Dad out of his misery and forgive him.

Dean stubbornly shook his head, indicating to Sam that John would have to _earn_ Dean's forgiveness for what had transpired here today.

Sam's expression softened, understanding why Dean was doing what he was doing, and he appreciated it, but Sam had to do what he thought was best, even if that meant going against his brother's wishes.

Dean snorted softly. Yeah, trust his overgrown, big-hearted kid brother just to forgive what had happened to him here in this world. Just because their Dad had shown an ounce of remorse and humanity for his actions, that was enough of a reason for Sam to forgive and forget. He never liked anyone to suffer – even if they deserved it – and if it was in his power to make it better, then he would.

Unfortunately, Dean couldn't forgive as easily as that. Because he _knew_ the toll this would have on his little brother. He _knew_ that Sam would suffer through nightmares because of this ordeal, be filled with more self-doubt and guilt than before.

So, no.

Dean would _not_ forgive John for this. Or Gabriel, for that matter. But that didn't mean he didn't still respect John Winchester. The man _was_ one of the greatest hunters Dean had ever known.

And he was still his Dad, regardless of his short comings. Plus, this might be the last time that Dean ever saw his father again, so, maybe he could be civil to his father … at least for the moment and for Sam's sake.

Sam wouldn't want to take any action that could be seen as contradicting Dean's own. He would hold his tongue and not try to ease their Dad's misery if it was what Dean wanted. But Dean also knew that Sam needed some sort of closure. And if forgiving Dad was the way that Sam got closure, then so be it.

Dean sighed inwardly, almost tempted to roll his eyes because _of course_ Sam could get Dean to do what he wanted by a simple soulful-pleading-puppy look as Dean inclined his head slightly, giving Sam the go ahead to do what he wanted.

And that dimply smile that Sam shot back at Dean, full of gratitude and admiration, was exactly why Dean did what he could for his brother. If Sam was happy, then Dean was happy. It was as simple as that.

 **DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW**

After confirming his intentions with Dean, Sam approached their father, hating to see him like this, even though Sam knew John had this coming for a long time.

And out of the two brothers, Sam was the one who should be gloating in his father's misery, because _finally_ John Winchester had admitted he was wrong. And look, the world wasn't coming to an end because the great John Winchester had admitted to a flaw.

Sam _should_ feel vindicated. But, instead, Sam felt bad for his father. And although Sam and John had never completely seen eye to eye and would butt heads almost constantly, Sam was a grown man now and not a hurt, pissed off teenager who had wanted to escape from under his father's strict thumb in order to prove to himself, to show John that school _was_ important, and he could do something with his life other than hunting …

Now, Sam knew about failure and some of the hard decisions – life and death – that his Dad had had to make for them over the years. Now Sam could understand why his Dad had done things and why they had to live the life they had, knowing failure, grief and regret because of his own foolish decisions.

Sam scoffed inwardly at those thoughts, the irony not lost on him as he suddenly realized that he and his Dad were not so different after all.

Both John and Sam had made a lot of mistakes during their lives, unknowingly hurting those around them, their decisions leaving a wave of destruction in their wake. The only difference between them was that Sam knew regret, remorse and guilt, while John pushed those insignificant feelings to the side and carried on … until now.

Sam hesitated, not more than two steps away from his Dad, unsure on how he went about consoling his tough-as-nails-drill-instructor-from-hell father, because never in his life had Sam seen his father remorseful for his actions.

And yet, here John stood, looking absolutely miserable and Sam – who had no problem in oozing the charm and becoming a sympathetic ear for the people in his everyday life, be it friends or witnesses to a case – had no idea on how he should comfort John.

Comforting and absolving his older brother of unfounded guilt came as naturally to Sam as breathing because Sam had been doing it for most of his life. But how in the world did he go about making John Winchester feel better about himself?

His big brother was a well-known denier of all things related to emotions and the click-flick moments he avoided as much as he could. Occasionally, Sam could get him to unload some of his emotional baggage. But their Dad …

John was a closed book on that matter completely; never opening up his emotions to either of his sons. Instead, John had found comfort within the bottle or he completely ignored it altogether … especially if it was his own emotional baggage.

Sam glanced back at Dean for help. Dean had spent a lot of years caring for, not only Sam, but their old man as well. If anyone knew how to comfort John, Dean would.

But Dean wasn't in the forgiving mood at the moment. With how angry and frustrated Dean was, it could be _days_ before Dean would even cool down enough to even consider it. So, it was up to Sam to do what his brother couldn't.

Dean couldn't help but smirk at the bewildered look upon his younger brother's face. If it hadn't of been such a serious situation, Dean would have burst out laughing.

Instead, Dean bit the inside of his check to contain his laughter and tried to look non-interested and irritated instead. Sam was the one who wanted to forgive Dad, not him, so Sam should be the one to figure it out.

It was only a few seconds later that Dean gave into his brother's infamous pleading, puppy-dog look, letting out a long, exasperated sigh, even as his features softened. But as much as Sam wished Dean to help him, in this instance, Dean had no idea on how they should proceed.

He'd always just patched Dad up, offering up a few pats on the shoulder in sympathetic understanding – even if he didn't understand half of what his Dad had been talking about in his drunken, slurred state – while helping the old man to bed. And as soon as John's head hit the pillow, he was snoring. So, Dean had never had to get into the emotional side of things with their Dad.

The only family member who wanted to _talk_ about his feelings, was Sam. Dean had a life-time of dealing with all of the emotions that made up his little brother; be it from frustration, to fear, to panic attacks, to being heart broken, to being bullied and tormented at school, to feelings of failure, regret, sadness.

Whatever emotion Sam exhibited, Dean had a remedy for it, because he had seen all of his kid brother's emotional states – even the ones he tried to hide – and if there was one person in his life that he let down his emotional barriers for, then it was this damn kid standing before him, giving him those damned big eyes of his.

But how to help their Dad get over emotional issues … that was something Dean had never experienced before and had no back-up plan or go to defence for this situation.

Dean shook his head at his brother's pleading look, shrugging his shoulders, indicating to Sam that he had no clue on what to do now.

Dean wasn't surprised when Sam shot him an irritated bitch-face before turning back to their father.

Dean couldn't help him. Well, that was okay. Guess Sam was just going to have to trust his gut and go with it.

Squaring his shoulders in quiet determination, Sam reached out a slightly shaky hand and gently placed it upon his father's shoulder, almost recoiling in shock when John jumped violently at the physical contact, wide, dark eyes staring into Sam's with confusion and just a hint of panic.

Sam immediately felt the tension leave him, giving his Dad a genuine smile, fill of all of the emotions he felt for his father but could never express to him in person, as well as understanding and forgiveness.

"Dad," Sam said, his hand tightening upon John's shoulder, before letting go as his father's eyes grew impossibly wider, before tears began to gather within the seasoned, gruff hunter's hollowed dark eyes.

"Sammy, I'm so sorry," John declared, his voice wavering with emotion as he fought to make his youngest boy understand that he had _never_ meant to hurt him. He had never meant to hurt either of his boys.

"It's okay Dad," Sam replied, gently cutting off his father's apology, knowing by his Dad's remorseful, guilty expression how truly sorry John was for what had occurred here today.

"I get it Dad. I really do. Thank you for trying to help us." Sam glanced back at Dean, Dean's features softening a little as Sam offered him a reassuring smile before turning back to their Dad once more. "And Dean … he'll get over this eventually. But next time you want to help us … how 'bout you just _tell_ us instead of conspiring with an ex-trickster."

John looked surprised for a few seconds before he burst out laughing. "Yeah, that may be safer. I thought that if I appeared to you out of the blue after being away for so long that it would freak you out." John chuckled softly. "Guess this way wasn't much better, was it?" he said, his voice filled with bitterness and self-loathing.

And that's something Sam could relate to. How many times had Sam heard these same emotions within his one voice after one of his epic screw-ups? Too many times, Sam realized with a shake of his head.

"Don't be so hard of yourself Dad. I know that you were only trying to help."

John looked up in surprise at the understanding, gentle tone that he heard within his youngest son's voice. John searched Sam's expression for several seconds before he nodded, humbly accepting Sam's unspoken token of forgiveness and his instant understanding of John's part in this whole scenario.

Sam smiled softly at John's look of gratefulness and gratitude, taking a moment to bask in one of the rare instances when John and Sam were seeing eye to eye on something. But it wasn't too long before Sam's thoughts began to cloud with self-doubt and guilt once more.

Dad had already admitted that he was sick and tired of seeing his sons screw ups and had taken this drastic measure as a way to open his sons' eyes before it was too late. But, did that mean that John had seen _everything_ that the two of them had done throughout the years?

More specifically, how many of Sam's epic mistakes had John witnessed? Had he seen the whole apocalypse fiasco? Of how Sam had betrayed his brother, becoming addicted to a substance that still made Sam feel both sick with dread and horror, as well as a sick kind of longing and excited high that demon blood triggered within Sam; only to realize yellow-eyes true intentions for him as Sam released Lucifer from his cage?

Did Dad think he was a monster now? Did Dad truly mean what he had said earlier, when he said that he never would have killed Sam? Knowing what John did now, would he have changed Sam's destiny by hunting him down like Gordon Walker had done, wanting to destroy him _before_ he fulfilled the evil destiny he was intended for, which included releasing Lucifer, starting the apocalypse and finally allowing Lucifer to possess him?

Was Dad truly glad to see him even though Sam had disappointed and betrayed Dean at every wrong decision he had made; from coming back from Hell soulless and trying to turn Dean into a vampire as well as trying to kill Bobby; to leaving Dean to rot in Purgatory for a year while Sam did nothing to help; to getting friends killed because he was too weak or too damn stubborn to back down from his own point of view; to saving Dean from the Mark of Cain only to release _another_ evil upon the earth?

"What is it Sammy?" John inquired, seeing the kaleidoscope of emotions that flashed through his youngest son's expressive hazel eyes.

Sam chewed upon his bottom lip nervously, not knowing if he wanted to know the truth to his questions. But he knew if he didn't ask his father this one final question now, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

"Have you seen everything we've done throughout the years Dad?" Sam asked, his heart pounding loudly in his ears, trying to prepare himself for the worst.

"I've seen most things," John replied evasively, shrugging unconcerned. "Why? What's on your mind son?"

"Are you ashamed of me?" Sam blurted out before he could stop himself and then wished he could take it back as John just stared at Sam blankly, a stunned look within his dark eyes.

Sam blushed, anxiously wringing his hands together, quickly lowering his eyes, suddenly realizing how vulnerable and _naked_ he felt under his father's intense, horrified stare, acutely aware of Dean's presence moving up closer behind him, almost as if he could sense his little brother's distress.

Dean instinctively moved up behind Sam when he noticed his little brother's drooping, dejected shoulders. He was far enough away to give Sam the privacy he craved, but he was also close enough where he could step in if he had to.

Sam had been jerked around enough today as it was. No way was Dean about to let that happen again. And if Dean had to step in, there would be no more talking, Dean would have no qualms or hesitation in taking his father down. Dean just hoped it didn't come to that.

"It's okay Dad," Sam said softly. "You don't have to answer that. I just …" Sam raised his eyes to look back at Dean before facing their father again, bitting his bottom lip nervously. "Please don't blame Dean for any of the things we've been through over the years. He is … he is the most patient, forgiving and understanding big brother in the world and has taken his job of looking out for me very seriously … even when there were times, I didn't deserve that loyalty." Sam continued, his tone oozing with self-disgust and bitterness. "Dean wasn't the one who screwed up here Dad. I did. So, if you need to blame anyone, blame me, okay?"

"Sammy, what rubbish are you blubbering about now?" Dean moved up beside Sam, having reacted once he had seen the desperation within his little brother's eyes, his tone light and teasing. "I told you I didn't want to hear you talking crap about yourself, didn't I?

C'mon Sammy, I don't want to have to kick your ass, but I will if you keep talking this shit." Dean warned, his touch gentle, even as his green eyes flashed, letting Sam see how serious he was on this matter. "Besides, Dad knows that I've made my fair share of mistakes too. And if I had been doing my job properly, then neither of us would have been _played_ like we were."

"Dean –" Sam objected, instantly rising to his big brother's defence, because in Sam's eyes, Dean could do no wrong.

"That's enough boys," John commanded, his tone soft, even as his held up hand had a commanding air. John eyed his two sons carefully, noticing how tense both of them were – Sam, because he was nervous and Dean, because he was preparing for any situation to occur and was hunter ready – before he smiled.

"Okay, first off, Dean … you have done an amazing job in looking out for your brother for all of these years."

Dean opened his mouth as if he was about to argue with his Dad's assessment, while Sam shot his brother a smug I-told-you-so look.

"Dean," John placed a hand upon his oldest son's shoulder and squeezed firmly before releasing his hold. "Take the compliment here kiddo and accept the fact that you have looked out for Sam the best way you knew how."

Dean frowned, opening his mouth, no doubt to argue yet again before he closed it. "Yes Sir," he said, his voice clipped and controlled even though John could see that Dean didn't really believe what John had told him.

John resisted the urge to roll his eyes or sigh with exasperation because both of his boys could be so God damned stubborn. Wonder where they got that from, John mused darkly, instantly recognizing his own stubbornness within his two sons.

"What you two have done for each other over the years has been nothing short of incredible." John looked between his grown sons and couldn't help beaming with pride. "While, at times, I have literally felt the grey hairs exploding onto my head at some of the stunts you two have pulled … I can honestly say that I have never felt prouder of how the two of you have turned out."

John paused to swallow back the lump of emotion that had lodged in his throat, noticing his sons surprised, stunned looks at his statement. "You two have stuck by each other through everything … hell, you guys have saved the world several times over. And it doesn't matter if you felt you were the cause for the end of the world starting or not."

Here, John looked at Sam sternly, who blushed deeply and lowered his eyes. "You made an effort to clean up your mess and saved the world, which is all that really matters."

Before either of his sons knew what exactly was going on, John stepped into Sam's space and hugged his boy tightly. "I have _never_ been ashamed of you Sammy, you got that?" John said, his tone lower, gruffer with emotion.

Sam blinked in surprise, reciprocating his father's hug, tears of relief and gratitude within his eyes. "Thanks Dad," Sam whispered.

John clapped Sam on the shoulder before he released Sam and turned to his oldest, bringing Dean into his arms before the older boy could object or complain. "I am so proud of you Dean. Never give up on your brother or yourself because together, the two of you are unstoppable. Do you understand son?"

"Yes Sir," Dean responded, hugging his father back fiercely, all of the anger and frustration he had felt toward John earlier melted away. God, he missed this man. Even with all of his faults, Dean would always admire and respect his father, the same way that Sam idolized and looked up to Dean.

"Good." John stepped back, happy to see that his message had been received. Although it may not have been the message John had originally wanted to tell his boys, it would have to do because John could _feel_ another presence coming toward them.

"Sorry to break up this heart-warming Winchester bonding moment guys, but it's time to go."

Both Dean and Sam started at the sound of Gabriel's voice as he materialized before them, their startled looks morphing into seriousness. And even though they wanted to argue, they knew that there was no way that John could ever come back with them, no matter how much they may have wanted it.

Dean's eyes narrowed suspiciously, his body automatically tensing, a low growl of warning emanating from him when Gabriel moved closer toward Sam.

"Easy tiger," Gabriel held up his hands in surrender, that cocky, smug smirk that Dean had wanted to wipe off the arch-angel's face with a few well-placed punches, appeared easily upon the ex-trickster's lips. "No one's hurting anyone here Deano. It's time for you and little Sammy here to go back to your world and for your Dad to go back to the afterlife."

Sam bristled at Gabriel's use of his nickname. Sam was by no means _little_ and no one had the right to call his Sammy except Dean … and maybe his Dad, if he was feeling particularly generous.

But Sam knew that it was futile to go up against the ex-trickster, arch-angel because Sam didn't approve of Gabriel's name calling. He wasn't a kid anymore and had better control over his rising frustrations at being continually referred by a nickname he associated with a chubby twelve-year old.

But Dean on the other hand …

Sam glanced to his left, seeing his brother's tense jaw, hands clenching and unclenching, the vein upon his forehead throbbing.

Yep, his brother was pissed.

Sam made a low soothing, reassuring warning noise from within his throat, urging his brother to calm down and was relieved to notice that Dean relaxed slightly, nodding stiffly for Gabriel to proceed.

"But before you whammy us back, let me warn you one last time Gabriel, that if you ever do anything – and I mean _anything_ – to fuck with either me or Sam again, I will have great pleasure in roasting me some arch-angel feathers with some holy oil." Dean glared at Gabriel fiercely, the low, guttural growl of his voice conveying the seriousness and conviction of Dean's threat. "Do we understand each other?"

Gabriel's expression sobered before he smirked once more. "What's the matter Dean? You're still pissed at how I treated little Sammy here today, aren't you Deano?"

Dean scoffed loudly. "You were trying to convince him to blow his brains out, so forgive me if I'm not receptive or grateful for what you did." Dean said, and everyone could hear the sarcasm within the older brother's voice.

"Stand down Dean," John chuckled dryly, affectionately. Even now, Dean still had Sam's best interests at heart. "It's over son."

"Yes Sir," Dean replied automatically, even as his dark, deadly glare remained fixed upon Gabriel.

Gabriel searched Dean's expression for several seconds before he nodded in understanding. If he ever did anything to hurt Sam like this again – even if it was for their own benefit – then Dean wouldn't hold back the next time they met.

"Okay boys, let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

"Dad …" Sam murmured, glancing over at John sadly.

"It's okay Sammy," John smiled. "I'll be fine. And remember boys, you're stronger together. Keep up the good work, I'm proud of you both. And …" John hesitated as he watched Gabriel place his fingers upon his sons' foreheads. "I love you." He whispered before his boys disappeared and John was left with the smug arch-angel.

"Well, that went well." Gabriel grinned at John's incredulous look before he placed his fingers upon John's forehead. "It was nice working with you Johnny-boy, but … let's never do this again or Dean might just kill the both of us."

John had to agree with that honestly blunt assessment. "Keep an eye on my boys Gabriel,"

Gabriel nodded before he sent John Winchester on his way. Left alone in the world Gabriel had created for Sam, he knew that this experience had brought the Winchester siblings closer together – even if the two of them were too stubborn to admit it yet! – and he had succeeded in what he had set out to do.

Now all he had to do was wait.

He would be staying put for at least the next six months until Sam held up his end of their deal, and then Gabriel would disappear once more.

He wasn't quite ready for the world to discover that he wasn't as dead as what they all believed he was.

Besides, the world didn't need him when it had his two favourite chuckle heads, united and stronger, to defend it against the evil and things that went bump in the night … including the greatest evil to have walked to earth so far, the Darkness.

These two bumbling idiots had defeated Lucifer. And Gabriel had no doubt that they would win against the Darkness too.

 **THE END**


End file.
